Finishing What You Started
by Ms Orton
Summary: So what happens when reality sets in and House and Wilson realise they can't do this on their own? Despite everything that's happened there's only one person they can both trust. Post-season 8 finale. Initially H/W friendship, Huddy.
1. Chapter 1

_So like a lot of other people I just wasn't happy with the majority of Season 7 and 8. It felt like a negation rather than a culmination of what had gone before, and the finale itself really was a hot mess. Having cared for someone with terminal cancer I know full well that cancer and road trips don't mix, and that's before we get into the plot holes and general stupidity of House faking his own death. Anyway this is an attempt to fix what we saw on the screen by paring back some of the "OoC-ness" and realistically bringing the whole 'Docs on the run' thing to a proper conclusion, whilst finding a believable way to bring Cuddy back into House's life. I hope it works. _

_This first chapter is H/W (friendship) centric, but rest assured a certain badass Dean of Medicine will be popping up very soon…_

_P.S. I haven't written anything for absolutely ages so feedback would be brilliant. Thanks._

* * *

**Finishing What You Started**

For all of the bravado and the determination to ignore Wilson's illness inevitably it became the ever-growing elephant in the room. Two months into the roadtrip they were reduced to riding for only a couple of hours a day before they'd be forced to stop and take a break in whatever diner, bar or hot dog stand they could find. These days dark circles were constantly etched across his drawn features, no matter how long he'd spent resting and sleeping the night before. He wouldn't explicitly complain that most of the time he felt like complete and utter crap, but House knew that this was becoming more of a chore than an adventure regardless of how much his friend wanted to squeeze as much as possible out of the end of his life. Within another month it was blatantly obvious that the bikes would have to go, the helmet and the constant dust on the road making his already compromised breathing even more difficult. Leaving Wilson to rest at the comfortable, but shabby New Mexican motel they'd just checked into, House left to investigate an old convertible he'd seen for sale at a local garage they'd ridden past about an hour before. On his arrival he was warily greeted by an impossibly old mechanic with a face like a contour map and a mouth encasing 3 tobacco stained teeth, who pointlessly rubbed his oily palms on an equally oily rag before offering his hand out to the dishevelled man who'd stopped by the side of the road, swung his leg carefully off his bike and limped towards him. Half an hour later the old guy was still driving a hard bargain, but begrudgingly conceding to throw in a full tank of gas and a pine air freshener in exchange for the bike and $500.

"And you're sure she isn't just going to break down on me a mile or two down the road?"

The old man nodded solemnly.

"You heard me turn her over. She ain't the beauty she once was, but she still purrs like a kitten. I worked on her myself."

The air whistled through the gaps in his teeth as he spoke, House all the while examining him closely. The geriatric mechanic was determined to get himself a good deal out of this, that much was obvious by the way he was pursing his dry lips and squaring his normally barrelled shoulders in an impressive display of pride and defiance for a man of his advanced years, but he wasn't lying. No twitching. No shuffling of his feet. He just raised his eyebrows and slowly folded his arms waiting for the man in front of him to make some sort of decision. It didn't take a genius to realise he was starting to get pissed off and eager get back to the engine he'd been inspecting before he'd been interrupted by the arrogant jerk with the limp and the leather jacket.

Giving the car one last look over House smirked to himself when he spotted the black & white "Jesus Loves You" sticker seemingly glued to the rusted, red paintwork at the back of the vehicle, now as much a part of the make-up of the car as the worn, cream leather upholstery. _What the hell! _He was already travelling around the country with an oncologist with cancer, whilst he, officially a corpse, was very much alive and enjoying the hospitality each state they passed through had to offer. One more aching irony wouldn't make that much difference, and despite having seen better days the machine still retained a quiet elegance that he couldn't help but appreciate. He'd enjoy driving it and he was pretty sure his best friend would enjoy spending his last days being driven around in such a cool car. Besides it wasn't as if he had the luxury of being able to saunter into a showroom and purchase a car. Their money was starting to run low and dead people didn't do that. Not if they wanted to avoid jail.

"You have yourself a deal!" House finally relented, shaking hands with the man and mentally saying goodbye to the bike before handing over the keys and the cash, and driving back to their New Mexico hotel that was happily within spitting distance of the Arizona border and the next leg of their journey.

As he entered their twin room he could hear Wilson coughing, spluttering and emptying his guts in the bathroom above the incessant whooshing of the ceiling fan. Combined with the dark, faux wood panelling on the walls he instantly felt claustrophobic, everything from the décor and the dull ache in his leg to the situation they were in seemingly closing in around him like being enveloped in a strait-jacket. Reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket he pulled out a brown pill bottle, popped the lid and dry swallowed 2 tablets. Wilson's lengthy trips to the bathroom were par for the course these days as the coughing fits were either so prolonged they led to him spitting up blood, or the little food he could eat just didn't sit well in his stomach. His body was clearly starting to break down.

Sitting down on his own garishly quilted bed and taking a deep breath as he removed his dusty leather jacket, the doctor in House couldn't help but ponder his friend's prognosis. The last two weeks he had deteriorated rapidly, noticeably losing weight which had made him look rather pathetically like a little boy who'd been trying on his Dad's clothes, and forcing them to stop off to buy him replacements. This had resulted in them bickering in a small clothing store like an old married couple over the oncologist's thriftiness in spite of his imminent 'departure'. Eventually the argument got too much for Wilson who was forced to find a seat in the ladies shoe department, handed a glass of water and fanned with the local newspaper by one burly, middle-aged Texan woman as her equally rotund friend lectured House for shouting at his 'brother' who was clearly an ill man. Initially the assumption that they were related had taken him aback, but the more he'd thought about it during the subsequent hours they'd spent on the road, the more it sat well with him. Growing up an only child was isolating, especially if you moved around so much that you couldn't make proper friends, which was why he'd clung onto Wilson all these years. To have someone who wasn't fazed by all the stunts he'd pulled, and who still enjoyed his company was something he not only wasn't used to but wouldn't let go of easily. The mistake the woman made wasn't that far-fetched, they probably _were_ as close as most siblings.

After that House made a pact with himself to try and break the habit of a lifetime and not wind his friend up for the few remaining weeks of his life. Because that's all he had left: weeks. There was no getting round that, no matter how many times he shoved it to the back of his mind. In the end he lasted two days before he couldn't bite his tongue any longer, and despite Wilson's protestations and throwing his hands on his hips in disgust, he was glad his miserable ass of a friend couldn't help but mock him over his burning need to buy cushioned insoles for his new biker boots. Their petty squabbles were a distraction he'd happily latch onto as long as possible. In his line of work he'd seen thousands of cancer-riddled bodies decay and eventually stop functioning, but that didn't mean he was ready for it to happen to him. It was better to keep moving, rather than thinking. Ruminating over his limited future petrified him if he thought about it for any length of time, so it was better to just get on with things.

Eventually Wilson stumbled out of the bathroom wiping his decidedly ashen face with a damp towel, and realizing he was being carefully observed by House, who was propped up against his own hideously floral headboard and shovelling nachos into his mouth from a gigantic packet next to him on the bed.

"You look like crap!"

"Thanks," the younger man muttered as he flung himself down on his mattress.

"C'mon Jimmy," House mumbled with a mouth full of corn chips, jumping off the bed and grabbing his cane. "This is no time for lazing around. I've got something that'll cheer you up."

"Look, if this involves hookers or women who can shoot ping pong balls out of their…"

"Vaginas?" the former diagnostician offered, dusting off errant crumbs from his t-shirt.

"Yes! Or any other part of their body. I'm NOT interested." Limping over to his friend's bed it was clear he wasn't going to let up.

"Oh no, no, no! This lady is much classier than that, and much more expensive."

"House!" Wilson really didn't have the energy for this. His head was pounding and he still felt nauseous.

"Humour me. All you have to do is get off your ass and walk outside."

"Fine!" he eventually relented, realising he wasn't going to get any peace until he did as he was asked.

Following his evidently excited friend outside and watching him wander over to a red convertible in the car park, it gradually dawned on Wilson what House had spent the afternoon doing.

"You traded in your bike?"

"Don't be stupid Wilson! I traded in your bike and sold mine for a ridiculous amount of money to the young guy who was eyeing it up when we booked in. Thankfully his 'abuela' was pretty generous in her will, and you know I can't resist taking candy from a baby." He smiled mischievously. "Well?... Kinda cool huh?"

Wilson nodded silently, and proceeded to examine the car from all angles.

"It's rusty."

"In the car trade we call this weathered. This little lady has character," House countered running his hand along the bonnet. "I bet she's seen some action in that backseat too."

Practically jumping up from crouching on the floor where he was examining the wheel trim, Wilson couldn't help but examine the upholstery.

"It was valeted, right?"

"Absolutely!" House answered straight-faced having no idea if what he said was actually true. It _seemed _clean enough.

"Fine," Wilson muttered as he continued to look over the car. "But I'm driving her first tomorrow."

Usually this would have caused an argument, but what the hell his friend was happy and they had a cool car. In the grand scheme of things it didn't matter.

"Fine!" House happily conceded. "Tomorrow morning you get your grubby little paws on her first."

Wilson smiled to himself and wandered round the back of the vehicle, shortly after stopping dead in his tracks.

"You have GOT to be kidding me?"

"What?" House rounded to the back of the car and stood next to his best friend, settling his own gaze on what Wilson was staring at. The sticker.

"Yeah," he murmured, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. "While you were chucking your guts up in the motel can, I did something constructive and found the Lord. His real name's Pablo and he sells corn chips at the side of the road."

* * *

A day and a half later the two friends were perched on the bonnet of the convertible, watching in silence as the sun set over miles and miles of red rock, a plethora of colours and shadows dancing over the landscape in breath-taking fashion. Minutes passed as neither of them felt the need to break the silence, both lost in thought. Finally House couldn't resist the urge to turn to Wilson with a smirk turning up the corners of his mouth.

"So Dr Wilson, was The Grand Canyon as romantic for you as it was for me?" He batted his eyelashes and feigned an expectant look as his best friend rolled his eyes. "It _is_ something, huh?" Wilson nodded slowly, looking thoughtfully at the scene in front of him as if he was contemplating what he was about to say.

"No it is. I can't believe I've never been here before. It's amazing, but I just…" After stuttering over his words he let the rest of the sentence hang in the air, leaving House unsure if he couldn't articulate what he wanted to say or if he was just censoring himself.

"But what?" There was another pregnant pause as the sick man rested his head on his palm and exhaled deeply.

"It's… It's so fucking desolate! There's nothing. For miles and fucking miles, there's absolutely nothing. It's depressing as hell!"

"If you'd wanted casinos and showgirls we could've gone to Vegas." House cracked, uncomfortable with where this might be going.

"No that's not what I meant… I just feel like shit and I feel even worse knowing that this is a good day in comparison with how I've been feeling the past few days, and the even crappier days I've got to come… I'm tired. Every bone in my body aches and… and…" Again he faltered.

"And what?"

"I miss being around people. People I know. People I care about," seeing the hurt look forming across House's face he continued. "You know what I mean. You're barely human, but for all of your flaws there isn't anybody else I'd rather have spent the last few months with."

House sighed partially in relief and partially in understanding: being on the road for so long had taken its toll on them both, physically and mentally.

"So what do you want to do? Go home?" His words were measured. They both knew that as soon as he set foot back in New Jersey, the chances of him being caught and put away increased exponentially.

"No!" he answered almost instantaneously. "You and I both know I'm not up to that… I just want to put down some roots in the little time I've got left. Be somewhere where I've got some peace. Some dignity… Around people who I care about and who I can trust not to chicken out when it gets nasty, which it will... Does that make sense.?"

House shifted his weight from his bad to his good leg and swallowed a couple of Vicodin he'd removed from his jeans pocket, before finally making eye contact with his friend.

"It sounds like you've already got somewhere in mind."

In response Wilson slowly swivelled off the car and leant over the passenger door of the vehicle to get something out of the glove compartment, retrieving a small scrap of paper and handing it to House.

"How do you feel about the Golden Gate Bridge and a thriving gay scene?"

Looking at the San Francisco address the oncologist had handed him, he frowned. He couldn't remember Wilson ever mentioning a friend or even an acquaintance there.

"I'm rigid with excitement…"


	2. Chapter 2

_Thanks everybody for all the lovely encouraging feedback and alerts etc. It means a lot. This probably won't be an epically long story, but there's certainly a good few more chapters on the way before I get where I think House needs to be._

_Sorry this has taken so long to churn out. I couldn't get things to flow properly and I'm still not 100% happy with it, but then I probably never would be, so here it is... Let me know what you think._

_I forgot to mention before: I don't own the show or the characters. I just borrow them for my own nefarious means._

* * *

Pulling the key out of the ignition, House turned to Wilson who was fast asleep in the backseat with a tartan blanket tucked up around his chin. He looked horrendous. Even in the relative darkness of the artificially lit street his skin still seemed to be a pallid shade of yellowy-grey. The past 48 hours had been bad. Really bad. His breathing had deteriorated even more most likely because the effusion in his lungs was starting to build up, and he'd hardly eaten anything complaining that he was beginning to have trouble swallowing. There was probably an infection, but every time House had offered to take a look he'd batted him away. All Wilson wanted to do was sleep, and to be honest the biggest task in hand was to get them to San Francisco and to his friend's place, where they could evaluate what the best course of action would be. In light of that, House had driven pretty solidly for the past two days, stopping only to get to some rest and taking the odd break here and there to get gas and supplies. Consequently he was exhausted and his leg hurt like hell, but it was imperative that they reached their destination. The last 48 hours had reinforced the idea in his mind that Wilson was right; them spending his last few days out on the road just wasn't a realistic or sensible option.

All the oncologist would tell him about the "friend" was that they were also a doctor, so at the very least they wouldn't be completely incompetent. Looking at the property he'd parked in front of it was fairly clear they were doing pretty well for themselves, whoever they were. The place wasn't exactly showy, but House could tell it was worth some serious money. The guy probably owned his own practice or was a plastic surgeon; they were after all in California. The sensible blue car parked in the driveway also suggested that more likely than not they had a family at home, which wasn't exactly great news for him. The more people that were there, the harder it was for him to stay inconspicuous. It was also more likely that they'd report him to the Police if they did figure out that he'd faked his own death to avoid jail. Taking a deep breath he got out of the car and limped to the backdoor, opening it. Like it or not, this was their best chance for Wilson not to end up in a hospital bed at the end of his life, whilst he twiddled his thumbs behind bars.

"C'mon Sleeping Beauty!" He prodded Wilson and leaned against the car to wait for him to get his bearings. "I think we're here."

Rubbing his eyes and slowly moving himself towards the door, the sick man swung his legs out and perched on the edge of the seat for a minute, putting his head in his hands momentarily.

"I feel weird."

"You look weird."

"Thanks." The oncologist managed a smirk before gesturing to the property in front of them. "So this is it?"

"You mean you don't know?"

"It's the address on the paper, right?"

"Well, duh?... You mean you've never been here before?"

Rather than concentrating too much on what House was saying, he was focusing on standing up. He really did feel weird. If he didn't know better he'd have suspected his best friend had slipped him something.

"Nope."

House threw his hands up in the air.

"So basically we're just going to rock up there and say "Hey! Remember me? Well he's dead and I'm dying. We've come to sublet your house… Niiiice!"

Wilson glared at him. He felt dizzy, nauseous and exhausted which was making putting one foot in front of the other a difficult task, and all of this was coupled with the fact that he was nervous about this too. Even better than House he knew full well this might blow back spectacularly in his face. Right now he could do without the sarcasm.

"Since when have you had a problem with freeloading?" Before his friend could reply he continued. "Now shut up and give me a hand."

Slinging his arm around House's neck they slowly made their way along the path to the front door, wobbling here and there when Wilson's legs buckled momentarily, but making steady progress until they reached the step: the blind more or less having led the blind.

"You sure you want to do this?" House regarded his friend who now had beads of sweat rolling down his forehead from the exertion of moving, and who he could feel shivering in the night air next to him, but he was starting to lose his nerve. A lot hinged on them relying on someone he didn't even know. "I mean we could at least wait until the morning and then…"

"No! I'm sure…" He wasn't at all, but they had little option, especially as the dizziness was getting worse. All he could think about was lying down. Weakly lifting his hand he knocked on the door. "Just… Just let me do the talking."

"Oh I intend to!" House's eyes narrowed as he looked at Wilson, who was starting to feel like more of a dead weight against him, his eyelids fluttering as if he was struggling to keep them open. "You ok?"

Before he had chance to answer, the door opened revealing a dark-haired woman in a dressing gown furiously rubbing her eyes to clear her vision. Turning to look at her House's mouth dropped open, mirroring the look of shock on her face as she regarded the two men stood in front of her.

"Hi Cuddy…" Wilson managed to slur just before his eyes rolled back into his head and he slipped out of House's grasp, slumping to the floor.

Twenty minutes later House was following Cuddy out of the ground floor guest room they'd awkwardly managed to carry Wilson to and settle into the bed. Grabbing her bag from the next room she'd checked his obs and told him to get some rest, all the while her Ex standing by the doorway like a naughty toddler, not daring to speak or move. Throughout she'd kept an even and professional tone before squeezing Wilson's hand, smiling warmly at him and telling him to get some rest. As soon as she moved away from him her expression hardened, and brushing past House turned and looked him coldly and squarely in the eyes.

"Out here. _Now._"

He'd wanted to make some witty reply, but nothing was forthcoming. He was too busy trying to comprehend the fact he was stood next to the woman he never thought he'd see again. Like a man being led to the electric chair he fell a couple of steps behind her, looking her up and down as they walked. Under the jersey gown she had tightly drawn across her he could tell she'd put on a little bit of weight. Nothing major, but her hips were definitely more defined as she strutted through what appeared to be her office space and then into the living room. Further down he spotted the tan on the backs of her legs. She looked incredible. Clearly pissed off from the tension in her shoulders, but incredible. Finally stopping she swung round to face him, her arms folding across her body and her face forming an angry frown.

"So?..." Cuddy's eyebrows rose expectantly as she asked the question.

House could feel the blood pumping in his temples. His mind raced to find some sort of answer to her question, but there was a disconnect between his brain and his mouth. All he could do was look at her and tell himself this couldn't be happening. The surrealism of this woman he'd known for most of his adult life standing in front of him in such foreign surroundings was throwing him completely. Sighing and setting her jaw more tightly Cuddy prompted him again.

"Well?..."

He drew in a deep breath and finally spoke.

"Wilson's sick… He's got can…"

"I know what's wrong with him," she interrupted. "You, on the other hand, are faring _way_ better than I expected."

"I…" House had no idea what to say. _Sorry I'm not dead?_ _Wait a minute. She knew? _Knowing that he had the overriding urge to ask her why she hadn't turned up to his funeral, but now was hardly the time. "He wanted…"

Again Cuddy wouldn't let him finish his sentence.

"He _needs _tobe in a hospital, not running around after you, clearing up yet another one of your messes."

"No. No hospital," he spoke resolutely.

She dropped her arms to her sides and took a step back, the corner of her mouth curling up into a look of disgust.

"You selfish bastard!" A mock chuckle escaped her lips. "I don't know why I'm even remotely surprised."

Now the shock at being here, in her home, was giving way to anger. She'd made a snap judgement about him. About all of this.

"For your information, it's _Wilson_ who doesn't want to go to the hospital. _Wilson _who hasn't wanted to spend the last few months of his life with tubes hanging out of every orifice, with some idiots poking and prodding every inch of his body. It was also _Wilson _who thought it'd be a good idea to turn up here without telling either you or me." Without meaning to he'd taken a step closer to her, as she looked him in the eye trying to gauge if what he was saying was true. Realising their proximity House took a step back and let his gaze fall to the red rug he was standing on. This wasn't fair on her. Not after what happened. "Look, if you want me to go back in there, get him and go…"

"Yeah, because that's practical. He's not a puppy House."

They both stared at the person in front of them, evaluating each other and the situation they found themselves in. The prolonged silence hung heavily in the air around them.

"I'm not leaving him."

It was a quiet assertion, but Cuddy knew he meant it. This whole thing was insane. Just a couple of months earlier she'd found out he'd died in a fire, and now here he was, as tangible as the coffee table he was stood next to. A mixture of emotions churned around in the pit of her stomach. Confusion. Relief. Fear. Fear of what? That he'd physically hurt her? Surprisingly no. She had no doubt in her mind that a. he wouldn't try anything and b. even if he did she was more than capable of defending herself. No the thing that scared her the most was letting her emotional defences down around him. He'd hurt her more than anyone could possibly imagine, but she wasn't about to let him know that.

"Stay here… 2 minutes."

Turning on her heel she walked purposefully into the hallway and bounded up the stairs, leaving a baffled House on his own in her living room. Bringing his hand up to his face he rubbed his eyes and then looked around him, finally getting a chance to properly look at his surroundings. Most of the furniture was new, but he could tell this was Cuddy's house. Everything was painfully clean and light, yet they still managed to be homely. Numerous papers were spread out on the sofa next to where she'd been sitting, as well as on the coffee table next to a now stone cold mug of herbal tea. She'd clearly been working and then fallen asleep only to be woken by their unexpected knock at the door. Casually looking over the various spreadsheets, pie charts and performance reports something familiar glinting in the dim light caught his eye. Poking out from a textbook was the silver antique bookmark he'd taken from his Dad's things after he'd died. He'd looked for it after he'd been in prison, but assumed he'd either misplaced or lost it. Now it was obvious he'd taken it to Cuddy's at some point when they'd been together. _Did she remember it was his, or when she packed everything up after the 'incident' had she just assumed it was hers?_

Hearing her on the stairs he moved back to the exact spot he was stood before and shoved his hands nervously into his pockets. Re-entering the room she'd changed into a pair of jeans and a loose fitting grey jumper, her hair now tied back and carrying a thick blanket which she set on the back of the sofa and began clearing away her papers, setting them down on a side table.

"You can sleep on the sofa."

"I was thinking I'd keep an eye on him… I saw a chair in there."

"Your leg?" She'd seen him limping more heavily than usual earlier and now he was noticeably avoiding putting any pressure on it.

"It's fine." It wasn't, but he'd just have to deal with it. He was genuinely concerned something might happen to Wilson overnight and he'd rather be in there.

"Ok." Stepping towards him she handed him the blanket. "I'm going out. I'll be back in an hour. Two at the absolute most… Don't touch anything and don't go snooping around the house."

She was walking away from him and grabbing her jacket from the coat stand in the hallway.

"Wait, where's Rachel?"

Pulling the garment over her shoulders she answered him with another question.

"You honestly think I'd leave her alone with _you_?" Her words felt like a knife twisting in his gut. She was right though. What women in her right mind would leave their child in the care of someone who was capable of violence? "She's not here. That's all you need to know."

"Right." Clutching onto the blanket, he knew he had to say something. "Are you going to tell anybody about this… about me?"

Sighing she looked at him as if she was considering her answer.

"No."

"Thank you," he said with genuine sincerity in his eyes.

"I'm not doing this for you."

House nodded almost imperceptibly.

"Understood."

Their eyes locked for what felt like an eternity, but in reality for what was only a few seconds. There was so much both of them wanted to say, but it was far from being the right time. Swallowing deeply Cuddy turned away and walked to the front door, opened it and stepped outside into the night.

House had had every intention of doing as he'd been told, but try as he may to settle down he just couldn't. Attempting to get comfortable on the lumpy chair was seemingly impossible in the darkened room. His leg was on the verge of cramping and his growling stomach was reminding him that he hadn't eaten for several hours. Fast asleep Wilson was snoring heavily, a raspy rattle emanating from him each time he exhaled, completely oblivious of his friend's predicament. Pulling the cover from himself House leaned down and quietly extracted the Vicodin bottle from his jacket pocket, popping the lid and dry swallowing two tablets as he stared at the alarm clock on the stand next to the bed. It had just ticked over to 1.22. Cuddy hadn't even been gone half an hour yet, but it already felt like an eternity. For one where the she'd gone was bugging him majorly. A tiny part of him was wondering if she'd go back on her word and go straight to the Police, but his gut feeling was that she wouldn't. If not for him, for Wilson.

The damaged remaining muscles in his right thigh were beginning to twinge. He _had _to move or he'd end up wailing in agony as tried to ride out the cramp, and consequently wake up his sick friend. Standing up tentatively he exited the room as silently as he could, walking once more through the office and back into the living room. Seeing the archway that lead into the kitchen, and obeying the sounds of his grumbling stomach he made it his mission to shut them up. On reaching it he had to admit he was impressed. Sleek, dark wood cabinets lined the walls, next to stainless steel appliances and light marble work surfaces. Wherever she was working now it was certainly a step up from PPTH.

Limping over to the fridge he opened the door and scrutinized the contents. Pretty much everything needed to be cooked or was 'rabbit food' so noticing the milk, he shook the contents and downed what was left, then placing the carton in the bin next to him and shutting the fridge door. Level with his eyeline, in the midst of numerous letters and party invitations stuck to the steel door, was a crayon drawing of a lopsided woman grinning maniacally with her blue curly hair and her stick arms stretched out wide like a scarecrow. Across the top 'Mommy' had been scrawled in red and directly underneath the sparrow like feet 'Rachel' had been written comparatively neatly in a manner which made him imagine her concentrating on writing it, her tongue lolling out of her head absent-mindedly. Smirking to himself he realised she must be 5 now and in kindergarten, prompting him to wonder if she remembered him at all. He knew it was unlikely, especially with all the moving around in the past couple of years but maybe that was for the best. He had no idea what Cuddy had told her about what happened, so perhaps it was better if she no longer had any recollection of who he was. A pang of guilt stabbed at him as he remembered the letter the little girl had left for him at the end of his bed after the operation to excise the self-inflicted tumours in his leg. When Wilson had read that she'd hoped they could be friends again soon, he'd suspected it was just as much from Cuddy as her daughter. Within a few days he'd ruined any chance of that. In hindsight he'd have done anything to have stayed in both their lives, one way or another, but at the time when his judgement had been completely skewed by drugs and drink, he couldn't bear the thought of watching her with another man.

House sighed and turned away. There was nothing he could do about it now and all he could hope for was Cuddy having the good grace to let him be there at the end with his best friend. After that who knew where he'd end up? He hadn't thought that far ahead yet. Grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl on the counter he placed it in his pocket and decided to go back to his room, having every intention of doing just that until curiosity got the better of him when he caught sight of the staircase, as he slowly made his way through the living room again.

For months after Foreman told him Cuddy had gone House found himself thinking about her, even if he had actively stopped himself from googling her name on numerous occasions. Try as he may to tell himself that he didn't deserve to know, late at night he couldn't stop the nagging questions about where she was, who she was with, and if she too ever laid in bed at night, staring at the ceiling and thinking about him. Did she loathe him as much as he suspected she would, or had she successfully blocked him out completely as a part of her past that would never be revisited, literally or psychologically? Would she ever even begin to be able to forgive him?

The tasteful art deco clock on the mantelpiece ticked noisily in the stillness of the room. It was still only quarter to two and she'd said be at least an hour. Instantly he knew it was almost certainly a bad idea, but after all these months of wondering about Cuddy this was way too much of a temptation. Resolving to only take a quick look around, he navigated the stairs as fast as his leg would allow, stopping mid-way for a few seconds before continuing to the landing. When he got to the top a long corridor stretched out in front of him, closed doors intermittently leading off it, but one door directly in front of him was slightly ajar a soft light emanating from the room it was concealing. It had to be hers. Wavering for a few seconds he finally walked towards it and pushed on the door handle. Immediately recognising the bed he knew he'd been right. All the other furniture was different, but that was definitely the antique bedstead he'd gotten to know pretty well in the time they'd been together. Draped over it was the dressing gown she'd obviously removed in a hurry before leaving, along with the shorts and cami top. Turning round he could see other evidence of her urgency to get out of the house. A brush sat precariously on the edge of her dressing table, prompting him absent-mindedly to push the handle further back. Next to it was a bottle of perfume, the crystal lid resting on its side next to it. Picking it up he smelled it. It was the same one she'd used for years. Memories of the time Rachel had been playing in her Mom's room when he'd been looking after her, whilst Cuddy dealt with an emergency at work came flooding back. He'd been watching a film when the little girl had guiltily walked up to him on the verge of tears, lipstick smothered all around her face and stinking of her Mom's perfume. Taking her into the bathroom he'd cleaned her face and changed her clothes, telling her he'd take care of it. When Cuddy came home he'd taken the blame for the smashed bottle, saying he'd been looking for something and knocked it over. She'd been annoyed, but seemed to have bought it until he climbed into bed later that night and she'd sarcastically asked him if he'd been wearing her lipstick, as well as trying on her perfume. Whatever he did, she always found out in the end.

Moving over to the bed he sat down and rubbed his leg for a second, skimming his eyes over the book, the lamp and the glass of water on the nightstand and then eyeing the drawer underneath. He really shouldn't, but… Clasping the handle he pulled it half open and looked over the assortment of small tissues packets, glittery bookmarks that Rachel had obviously made for her and other knick-knacks, eventually deciding to open it further. There at the back of the drawer was a familiar black velvet pouch that made him smirk to himself. Not long after they'd started dating Cuddy had stepped out of the shower one evening and found him on the floor going through the bottom of her wardrobe. When she'd asked him what he was doing he'd smugly spun round holding a pair of fluffy handcuffs and the vibrator that was now tucked away in the pouch in front of him. After an awkward conversation they'd ended up having sex on the floor, which had resulted in an 'unfortunate' carpet burn for Cuddy. The following day her Head of Diagnostics had teased her mercilessly every time he noticed her discreetly wincing each time she sat down, taking great pleasure in reminding her he'd been indirectly responsible for her discomfort. What it meant was now was that she wasn't seeing anybody, or at the very least it wasn't serious enough for them to be have made it back to her home yet. Her sense of propriety would have once again relegated it to the bottom of the wardrobe. House knew he shouldn't care. In fact he had no right to, but he couldn't help but feel a completely irrational sense of relief. In the time since he'd last seen her it was perfectly possible she'd gotten into a serious relationship and maybe even gotten married. She was a beautiful and intelligent woman and there'd been no shortage of guys interested in her in the past, besides him. It didn't stop him feeling sick to the pit of his stomach when he thought about her with someone else though, but he didn't deserve her. He'd proved that emphatically once and all when he'd driven his car into her home.

Deciding he should probably make his way downstairs again he made his way out of the room, when he realised his bladder was telling him he needed the bathroom. Coming to the conclusion it would be easier to make use of the facilities upstairs, he set about finding them, opening the door adjacent to Cuddy's. Without turning on the light he knew full well this wasn't what he was looking for, but he was too intrigued to move. A cluster of fluorescent stars on the ceiling along with the light filtering in from the landing subtly, but adequately illuminated the room enough for him to see the small bed in the corner with a blue duvet covered in intermittent red and blue cars. A model fire truck and a transporter were lined up neatly in the opposite corner in front of a white wooden toy box. Stepping further in the room he walked over to the small bookcase under the window where a photo frame resided on the top shelf in between a money box and a toy plane, and he picked it up. There sat on a picnic blanket were Cuddy, Rachel and a little boy who couldn't be more than around 18 months old, all smiling broadly at whoever was taking the picture.

"What the hell?"

Turning around a little too quickly a pain shot down the length of his leg. Cuddy was stood in the doorway scowling at him. He hadn't even heard her make her way up the stairs, let alone re-enter the house.

"I needed the bathroom," House offered weakly.

"This isn't the bathroom."

"I noticed."

"There are two _downstairs. _One leading off the room you're sleeping in." She said it slowly, but deliberately. He knew she was furious at the invasion of privacy.

"So you planning on giving Madonna a run for her money?"

Knowing he was in trouble the auto-pilot in his brain had put him on the offensive. Slowly and carefully he put the photo back down where he found it.

"Excuse me?" Cuddy spat out, as her expression changed from angry to baffled.

"You adopted yet another brat to make you feel better about yourself…"

As soon as he'd said it he regretted it. He didn't even mean it, but when backed into a corner this was his modus operandi. Lash out. Think later. Cuddy opened her mouth partially in shock, and partially as if she was about to say something but had decided against it. Silhouetted by the light from outside the room he could see the muscle at the side of her jaw twitching as she fought not to cry in front of him. Inhaling deeply her eyes once again flashed with anger.

"Screw you!"

Turning on her heel before he could respond, Cuddy walked to her room and slammed the door behind her, leaving House alone in the boy's room feeling guilty and more than a little out of place.

Making his way back downstairs to the guest room he knew he'd messed up yet again, which was only compounded by the array medical supplies she'd obviously brought back from the hospital and temporarily left in her office space for the time being so as not to wake anybody up. A plastic covered bedpan lay on the floor next a large holdall that wasn't there before. Pushed up against the wall was a large black oxygen cylinder, which no doubt she'd struggled to get it in and out of her car. She was being practical, but most all she was being kind and that made him despise himself even more. Re-entering the room where Wilson was still sleeping he made his way to the en-suite, closing the door silently behind him and pulling on the cord for the light he was met by his own tired-looking reflection in the mirror above the sink.

"You idiot!" he whispered quietly to himself.


	3. Chapter 3

_Thank you so much, once again, to everybody reading and for all the reviews and alerts. It's really great to know people are showing an interest in this story I've had mulling around in my head for a while now. More thoughts, speculation etc would be greatly appreciated. _

_Writing this chapter made me realise just how important Cuddy was in making Wilson a fully rounded character and vice versa, let alone House. Boy did they screw up! Lots of dialogue here, but I thought it was necessary. These guys seem to have a lot to say..._

_I keep on meaning to update quicker, but life seems to get in the way. I'll try to stick to pushing a chapter out every week._

_I'm still just borrowing them._

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Lack of sleep had left Cuddy with a tension headache that she couldn't shake off. She'd laid awake for most of the night wondering how it was possible that her world could have been turned upside down in the space of a few hours, but then where House was concerned anything with fair game. So many times since she'd left New Jersey she'd imagined what would happen if they ever crossed paths again. In many scenarios she'd slap him and tell him what a pathetic little man he was. In others he'd come crawling to her, begging for her forgiveness and she'd coldly stare straight through him and walk away with her trademark swagger, leaving him with no doubt in his mind that she'd completely moved on with her life. Then one day whilst at work she heard about his death a month previously. Calmly she'd told her PA she didn't want to be disturbed and swiftly made her way to the bathroom adjoining her office on wobbly legs, closing the door behind her and slowly sinking to the cold tiled floored, trying in vain to conceal her shocked sobs. For over two months she'd silently grieved, only mentioning it to her sister who'd shown little sympathy for the man who'd hurt her so badly. Preserving her outward composure Cuddy had thrown herself into her work and looking after her children, which had managed to distract her until she went to bed on a night and was unable to switch her brain off. Irrationally she felt guilt, but most of all pervading sense of sadness wracked her to the pit of her stomach. Sadness that he'd died without her even knowing. Sadness his tragic end had brought a resounding end to their tumultuous relationship that had spanned over twenty years. It was all so final. Then he'd turned up at her door…

After finishing on the phone with a member of her Board she wandered quietly into the kitchen, grabbed a glass and an aspirin from the cupboard and headed to the sink to get a drink. It was still only half 7, fairly late for her even on a Sunday because of the kids, but not wanting to wake up her two guests, she tiptoed about the place. Swallowing the aspirin with her drink she caught sight of a figure through the window sitting with his back to her in her garden, one solitary finger tapping contemplatively on the arm of the bench as he appeared to be staring blankly into the distance. A few minutes later Cuddy walked outside to join him holding a mug of tea and the throw from the back of the sofa.

"Hi," Wilson said warmly, a weak but sincere smile spreading across his face as she placed the tea on table in front of him, and wrapped the blanket around his shoulders. Almost guiltily he realised he'd missed this kind of feminine fussing. Without realising, he'd longed for it for months.

"Hey," Cuddy replied and gestured to the herbal tea she'd just set down. "I brought you this. It'll help settle your stomach."

"Thanks… You don't mind me sitting out here do you?" he asked as she sat down next to him.

"No. Not at all."

"I woke up and I couldn't get back to sleep, so I came out for some fresh air…"

"Are you in pain?" Cuddy asked with a concerned frown.

"Not at the moment. Just a bit uncomfortable. It's nothing."

"You're sure? I can get you something."

Wilson nodded. In reality he was in some pain, but he wanted to avoid stronger opiates for as long as possible. Clarity of thought was a precious commodity he'd hold onto for as long as he could.

"I'm fine. House shares his Vicodin these days."

Cuddy felt her stomach sink, realising on a subconscious level she'd hoped House's relapse was temporary and that he'd have another shot at sobriety after she'd gone. Clearly he hadn't.

"If you need something stronger…"

"I'll let you know."

They sat in silence for a minute or so, both taking in the view as the Sun crept higher in the sky. This was in many ways the unsettlingly peaceful calm before the storm. A bird weaved around in the sky, capturing their attention and causing them both to watch it in quiet unison.

"House still asleep?" Cuddy asked rubbing her arm nervously.

"Snoring like a steam train." Wilson turned and grinned at her. "It really is good to see you, you know. To see you in this place… It's nice. It suits you."

The corner of Cuddy's mouth turned up gently and she sought out Wilson's hand giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Thanks. It's good to see you too."

"I'm so grateful for you letting us stay here, but if it's too much with me being like this, and House… well House being House…"

"It's fine."

"Just say the word…"

More than anything he wanted to stay here. He was so tired of the road and the impersonal motels they'd been frequenting, but he couldn't force the issue.

"I'm not going to lie and say I wasn't shocked when you turned up on my doorstep, but I'm glad you felt you could come here."

"Honestly?"

"Honestly. I've already rung work and told them I'm taking leave."

"And they're ok with that?"

"They owe me some time off, and I've agreed to do bits of paperwork at home. Trust me, they aren't going to fire me over this." It was true. After she'd first moved out to California she'd put feelers out for work and had been approached by a number of hospitals. Narrowing it down to two she'd been taken out to lunch by a member of the Board at UCSF and slipped a piece of paper across the table with a figure on it that made her feel nauseous. That, along with the other perks, meant that she and her children would be more than comfortable now and in the future. It was really a no-brainer. Since she'd accepted and begun working there her bosses had been exceptionally happy with her. This wasn't going to be a major problem. "I'll speak to my sister about keeping the kids for a while later…"

"_Kids_? As in plural?" Wilson asked, his brow furrowing in confusion.

Cuddy berated herself internally. Nothing ever got past Wilson. It was irrational to even begin to think she could've kept it a secret from him after last night, but she had wanted to try and keep this situation and her family life separate as much as possible. It was a means of self-preservation.

"I've got a little boy… Jacob. He'll be two in a few months."

Reaching over the side of the bench he picked up a toy car and held it up for her to see.

"I guess that explains me nearly sitting on this." Absent-mindedly he span one of the wheels with his finger. "From what I can recall Rachel used to be into dolls."

Rolling her eyes Cuddy took the car from Wilson, smiled to herself as if she was remembering something and took the car from him.

"We were looking for this one before they went to Julia's on Friday." Turning the car over in the palm of her hand she ran her finger over a slight blemish in the shiny red paintwork. "He's got about 20 cars exactly the same as this one, but this one's his favourite."

"So you adopted again then?" Cuddy's eyes flashed open with surprise for a split second, causing him to backpeddle. "I'm sorry, I'm prying aren't I?"

"It's ok. I just thought House had said something to you…" Blankly, Wilson shook his head. "We had a run-in last night after I caught him snooping around the house. He told me in no uncertain terms what he felt my motives for adopting another child were."

She stared at the paving stones under her feet as she spoke, tracing a small crack with the toe of her sandal and avoiding making eye contact, as Wilson watched her shift around nervously. Despite everything she still cared what House thought. It was obvious, and yet again he'd managed to upset her within the space of a few hours. Reassuringly the oncologist placed a hand on her shoulder.

"House is an idiot. It has long been established how much of an idiot House is."

Cuddy shrugged.

"I know, but…"

"But nothing!" Wilson interrupted. "Look Lisa, you have a beautiful home, two great kids by the sounds of it, and from what I hear a job that finally matches your talent. House, on the other hand, has a rusty convertible, a terminally ill best friend and isn't even able to open a bank account, let alone get a job, owing to the fact he decided it'd be a good idea to fake his own death. I really think he's the last person you need to listen to regarding the decisions you've made in your life."

Cuddy laughed as he smiled at her.

"I really have missed you."

There was a pause as Wilson looked thoughtfully at her.

"Really?"

"It was never _you_ I had the problem with."

"It's just I thought…" He hesitated, but went on. "You never answered my calls, and I thought it had something to do with the day you left."

Now it was Wilson's turn to shift around awkwardly in his seat.

"_That _had nothing to do with it…"

"You're sure? We didn't part on the best of terms."

"Yes," Cuddy answered emphatically. "We were both upset. It was a mistake. It's forgotten."

"Hey!" He nudged her arm with his elbow playfully. "Not exactly massaging my fragile ego here."

There was a beat before she responded.

"Did you ever tell him?"

"God no!"

As Wilson reached for his tea Cuddy noticed the slight shake in his hand. He looked considerably better than he had done last night, but the change in him since she last saw him was practically incomprehensible. Working in medicine you saw people deteriorating before your eyes pretty much on a daily basis, but it was always different when it was someone you knew. Someone you care about. Watching him sip at his drink she tried not to stare at his sunken in features. In himself he seemed the same. Maybe a little more subdued than she was used to, but visually he looked like an echo of his former self and seeing him like this made her want to weep for him. The last person who deserved this was Wilson. Taking a deep breath she leaned back on the bench and stretched out her legs. Her pity wouldn't do him any favours.

"I didn't take your calls because I couldn't let myself get involved with House again… I thought you'd need my help because he'd burnt the hospital down or blown up a patient, and I couldn't be drawn into that again. I'd just got settled here… If I'd known that you were ill, or that he'd…"

Cuddy let the end of the sentence hang in the air. "Died" wasn't exactly accurate in light of what she'd learned the night before.

"But you already knew last night, right? I saw the look on your face before I blacked out." He took another gulp of his drink and placed it back on the table. "I mean you were surprised to see me, but with House, well, you literally looked like you'd seen a ghost."

"Masters came for an interview about a month after you stopped calling me."

"At UCSF?"

Cuddy nodded and continued.

"She'd spent the last two years working in the Middle East with Doctors Without Borders assisting with reconstructive surgery on bomb blast victims, and decided she wanted to come back to the States and put down some roots. There was an opening in the surgical department and she applied. We talked, she seemed perfect for the job and then after we'd shook hands and she was about to leave, she told me she was surprised she hadn't seen me at the funeral."

Wilson grimaced as he relived the moment second-hand.

"You had no idea?"

"None. She spent the next 5 minutes telling me about you, about House and looking like she wished the Earth would swallow her up."

"What about you?"

Cuddy squinted into the distance, as if she was considering her answer.

"After the crash I imagined giving him a slow, painful death a million and one ways, but..."

Instead of finishing the sentence, she sighed and dropped her gaze to a sparse patch of grass a couple of metres away. She really hadn't wanted House dead, even if she had had no intention of letting him into her life again.

"He wasn't trying to hurt you…" Wilson almost whispered, noticing Cuddy's knuckles whiten as she gripped onto the edge of the bench. "He just snapped."

"And that makes a difference?"

There was obvious anger in her voice, but her tone remained measured,- her words clipped, making Wilson wary. The last thing he wanted to do was have an argument with her.

"No, but…"

"But what?... Just because by some miracle he didn't harm either me or my family, do you honestly think he didn't hurt me? He turned my entire life upside down… Am I supposed to just forgive and forget that?"

Seeing the real fury bubbling under the surface, Wilson knew he had to diffuse the situation.

"I'm sorry… I shouldn't have opened my mouth."

The tension in Cuddy's shoulders dissipated. She didn't want to lose her temper with her friend; not when he was so sick and this was going to be the last opportunity she'd get to spend some serious time with him.

"It's ok."

"No it's not." Wilson said adamantly. "It's bad enough I'm imposing on you like this without picking arguments that aren't even mine to have."

Turning her body towards him, Cuddy smiled and cupped his cheek, gently rubbing her thumb against the bristles on his chin.

"You've always made excuses for House. That's just what you do and I get why… God knows I, of all people, get why. What he's done for you was amazing… Insane, but amazing. I'm not going to lie to you though. Any chance of him and I having _any _sort of relationship, either now or in the future, ended the day he drove his car into my home." Cuddy saw a wave of disappointment spread across Wilson's features, but she was determined to finish what she had to say. "I'll tolerate him being here for your sake, but after… afterwards I can't… _I won't _let him stick around to hurt me again."

"I guess I always thought you two would eventually find a way…"

Dropping her hand from his cheek, Cuddy intertwined her fingers with his and held his hand tightly.

"Some things you just can't fix." There was a short pause before she spoke again, and brushed the back of her other hand against the stubble on his face. "This on the other hand…"

"House said it made me look rugged," Wilson jibed, mock offended.

Cuddy laughed out loud and gave her friend a look of bemused disgust.

"No wonder people thought you two were a couple. Which one are you? The cowboy, the police officer, the construction worker or the native American?" Cuddy giggled.

"Hey! Underneath this chiselled exterior I have feelings, you know?" Standing up, she tugged gently on the hand she still had hold of, causing Wilson to get to his feet. "Where are we going?"

"It's bad enough I'm going to have to put up with one scruffy ass moping about the place, but two? Oh no!" She pulled him back towards the French windows. "I, James Wilson, am going to give you the best shave and haircut you've ever had."

"Is it extra for the full body massage?" he chirped up cheekily.

Smirking to herself she didn't bother to turn back as they stepped inside.

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that."

Meanwhile back in the guest room a gentle breeze blew in through the open window, as House sat on the edge of the bed and stared at a knot in the wood on the varnished oak floor, his hand instinctively rubbing his aching thigh. He'd heard everything.

A little before mid-day House walked back from the car carrying two heavy holdalls, opened the front door and headed sheepishly into the kitchen where Cuddy was standing over a pan, and stirring the contents. Without turning round she could he was watching her.

"Hi."

"Hi," he replied almost as if it was a question, feeling as out of place and awkward as he did on his first day at school. He knew he needed to say something about what had happened the night before. Gulping deeply he spoke again. "About last night… I… I was out of order."

Turning round, Cuddy was now facing him with her arms crossed in front of her, sporting her poker face, which made her features almost unreadable.

"Yeah. You were."

"I'm sorry. It's not going to happen again."

There was a silence where she seemed to be checking his expression for any lack of sincerity. She could keep him squirming for a little while longer, but it wouldn't achieve anything and tension in the house between the two of them certainly wouldn't do Wilson any good. She wasn't exactly comfortable with him in her home, but it was much simpler just to be civil.

"Apology accepted," she finally conceded, dropping her eyes to the bags he was carrying. "What you got there?"

"Two guys out on the road for several months accumulate washing. I was wondering…" She sighed and walked towards him as if she was going to take the bags from him. "No. You point me towards the machine and I'll do it."

Genuinely surprised Cuddy took a step back and scratched her head.

"Erm ok… It's through there in the laundry room… There's soap in the cupboard above. You sure you don't want me to do it?" she asked with a look of bafflement on her face. House willingly doing any sort of chore was unheard of when they were together.

"If I can figure out how to fly a fighter plane I think I can manage a washing machine."

"You can fly a plane?"

"In theory, yes. In reality,... maybe. I don't think washing Wilson's smalls is beyond me though. In fact I know it's not."

Throwing her hands up in the air, Cuddy conceded defeat.

"Go ahead. Knock yourself out!"

A few minutes later House rounded the corner back into the kitchen looking almost too pleased with himself, eyeing the doorway back into the living room, but tentatively deciding to lean against the island directly behind Cuddy. After years of practice she could sense when he was looking her up and down. On some counts a leopard really doesn't change its spots.

"Wilson's got thrush," Cuddy uttered matter of factly, adding a pinch of salt to the pot.

"I don't care what he's said. We never even shared a bed."

She couldn't help but let out a little amused snort. Turning to face him he was nonchalantly fiddling with the wooden container holding her utensils.

"I meant oral."

"We barely held hands!" he insisted, hardly concealing a cheeky grin as he watched her bite her lip and try to stop herself from laughing out loud.

In spite of the joking around they both knew the thrush was a sign of their mutual friend's immune system becoming compromised. It wasn't a good sign.

"I brought a chlorhexidine spray back with me last night. You'll have to make sure he uses it regularly."

"Sure."

"He told me he was having trouble swallowing so I've made a whole pan of chicken soup."

"You need a hand?"

"I think it's done." Looking back at the pan and then again at him she spoke again. "I was thinking of making some Jello."

"Should I make party hats?"

"If you've got a gift…"

If someone would have told Cuddy she'd be stood in her kitchen bantering with her "dead" Ex-boyfriend just 24 hours before she'd have prescribed them some strong anti-psychotics, but this was happening and what's more she was enjoying herself. At work nobody had the audacity to look at her the wrong way, let alone undermine anything she said, which whilst it made her life significantly easier with such a busy workload, it also left her feeling aloof and cut off. Nobody would burst into her office calling her an idiot at UCSF, or indeed despondently flop down into the chair in front of her and moan about how her Head of Diagnostics had set mousetraps all over their office. She'd missed the interaction and the friendship she'd had with Wilson, but with House it had always been different; much more complicated long before she'd found him on his bathroom floor and told him she loved him.

"Cuddy?"

"Huh?" she muttered, snapping sharply out of her thoughts and shaking her head.

"I said give me something to do… As boyishly handsome as Wilson is, I'm sick of watching him sleep." Seeing his former boss looking at him perplexed he went on. "What?"

"I don't think I can ever actually remember you asking for something to do."

House's first instinct was to make a snappy comment that involved details of their sexual history, but he was wise enough to hold his tongue this time.

"Things change."

She watched him reach down to his bad leg behind the counter with one hand and rub where the absent muscle should be, his line of vision falling down to the other, which was splayed out on the countertop; the fingers tapping along to a tune he had playing in his head. Cuddy knew from experience it was a tick he had when he was nervous.

"What about people?"

The question was practically a whisper, but he'd heard it nevertheless, his eyes shooting upwards to meet hers. He had no idea what to say or even if she was being serious, but the way she was examining him certainly seemed to suggest she was expecting a candid answer.

"I…"

Just as he was about to formulate a sentence the phone rang in the room behind them, jarring them both out of the moment.

"I better get that."

He nodded, noticing she still hadn't moved from the spot.

"Ok."

"You can prep the Jello… It's in the cupboard over there." She pointed to the said cupboard as the phone continued to ring out. "Everything else…"

"Answer the goddamn phone! I'll figure it out…"

"Sure?"

"Yes!"

She smiled and half-walked, half-ran into the living room, flopping down onto the sofa and picking up the phone just as it was clicking onto the answering machine. Well aware Cuddy could see what he was doing from where she was sitting, he made himself look busy by opening the cupboard and pretending he was looking for the packet of jello, coolly keeping an ear on her conversation.

"Hey honey!" It had to be Rachel by the way her voice had softened.

Finding a bowl and boiling a kettle of water on the stove, he listened as the little girl was obviously recounting to her Mom what she'd got up to, barely allowing Cuddy to get a word in edgeways. After five minutes or so it was clear the conversation was winding up.

"I miss you too sweetie… No baby, I'm not lonely…" Unconsciously she glanced House's way as she said it, their eyes locking for a split second before he looked back down at the mixture he was stirring. "I love you too, and be good!… Can you pass the phone to Aunt Julia?"

Waiting for her sister to pick up the phone Cuddy had swung her legs onto the sofa, unintentionally letting her dress slide up her legs and affording House an advantageous view of the backs of her thighs. Taking a fleeting glimpse at her as she chatted away, he'd quickly turned his attention back to the mixture which he was now was whisking furiously, his fingertips whitening as he gripped hard on the utensil. After he'd dozed off the night before he'd dreamt about those same thighs clung tightly around his hips as he'd plunged into her, her nails raking down as his back as she'd met his thrusts stroke for stroke. Vividly he remembered her flushed cheeks, her dilated pupils and her soft open lips which she'd bitten down on intermittently. She'd been looking at him like she was in love.

Sighing, House put the mixture to one side and sat down on one of the stools next to the counter. The next couple of weeks were going to be difficult, and not just because of Wilson.


	4. Chapter 4

_So guys, I'm still a little overwhelmed that people are reading this, let alone taking the time to write such lovely reviews, as well as alerting and adding it to their favourites. Another huge thank you to all of you, and a bit of a cheeky prompt to keep it up: it encourages me to write. _

_Even I was rolling my eyes at House here. Bring on the angst!_

_I own nothing House-related. I merely rent them._

* * *

For the next couple of days Wilson's health seemed to plateau and even rally. Because his throat infection was being medicated he found it easier to eat, and because he found it easier to eat he regained some of his strength, prompting House to announce they were all going out for a drive. Ending up at Fisherman's Wharf they ate clam chowder for lunch in a tiny seafood restaurant where antique fishnets and crab pots decorated the walls. Animatedly, they discussed each of their own near misses with the sea, raucous laughter emanating from Cuddy as Wilson recounted the tale of how a jellyfish sting resulted in him losing his virginity during a family holiday in Antigua at the age of 17, after a slightly older local girl took pity on him. Sitting with his back to the restaurant window and looking across at Cuddy, House watched her intently listening to his friend, her body unconsciously leaning towards him and a broad smile lighting up her features, punctuated sporadically with unbridled giggles as she absorbed the story of how a pimply and awkward teenager managed to get the girl. He genuinely couldn't remember the last time he'd seen her look this care-free, relaxed and so utterly involved.

Distractedly he picked up a salt cellar and poured a little mound of its contents on their table, tracing circles in it with his finger as he glanced around at the other patrons, reasoning that they'd all assume Cuddy and Wilson were a couple who'd kindly taken their disabled, single friend out to lunch.

"Everything ok?" Wilson asked, seemingly concerned.

"Peachy," he replied half-heartedly. "I need the bathroom."

As he made his way to the men's room he looked over his shoulder and saw Cuddy cupping the mound of salt in her hand, bringing it across to her side of the table, throwing a pinch over her shoulder and then sweeping the rest onto the floor as Wilson continued to chat to her, the smile she'd had on her face for the last hour not budging. Limping dejectedly to the bathroom House felt invisible.

Later that evening, leaving them arguing over where Hitchcock's cameo came in _Rear Window_ as they sat cross-legged at opposite ends of the bed in the guest room, he walked a couple of blocks or so to the nearest store for no particular reason other than to get out of the house. On more than one occasion he'd tried to steer the conversation towards something he was interested in, but they wouldn't bite. Listlessly he walked up and down the aisles, adding beer, chips and candy to his basket, ignoring the teenager who not so conspicuously gawped at his leg as he rang up his items.

A little over half an hour after going he returned clutching the bag with the things he'd bought, and made his way back into the room about to announce he'd bought supplies, only to find Wilson and Cuddy fast asleep, the film they'd been discussing playing on the TV. Wilson was lying flat on his back with his chin tucked on top of her head, which was in turn resting on his shoulder gently, her body turned towards him and her hand placed lightly on his chest. Nine times out of ten it had been the way she'd fall to sleep on him when they were together, her body instinctively seeking out the warmth from his as she curled round him. Turning off the TV just as a portly, balding man wound a clock, House left them to it, silently closing the door and plonking himself down on the sofa in the living room. Pulling a beer bottle from the bag next to him, he opened it with his teeth and took a long drink as he sat in silence, the dusk light filtering in through the window. Trying to in vain to rationalise what he'd heard a few days before and now seen, he could feel a raw, illogical anger sparking inside him and it scared him. Despite everything his best friend was going through, right now he'd happily swap places if it meant Cuddy wouldn't look at him like he was someone to be endured and mistrusted. Sitting there in the semi-dark with only a bottle of beer for company, he realised he was jealous.

Wilson had woken in the middle of the night clammy, short of breath and feeling as if something or someone was pressing down on his chest; for a split second unable to establish if the dream he'd been having was real or not. As he slept he battled with faceless people who had been pinned him down as a heavy block of metal was lowered slowly onto his chest, crushing him and making it impossible to breathe. In vain he'd tried to free his limbs in his dream, and consequently his muscles ached from tensing them in his sleep. This wasn't the first time he'd had such dreams either. There were always slight variations such as where he was or who was holding him down, but the impending threat of suffocation was always the same, a complication of his illness manifesting itself in his subconscious. Sitting up on the edge of the bed as he gasped to get his breath back, he felt a hand gently rubbing his back, as a bleary-eyed Cuddy asked him if he was ok.

Now Wilson sat outside with his eyes closed, revelling in the fresh air and the Sun beating down on his face, a couple of feet away from House who had been bouncing a tennis ball he'd found in the soil behind him against the back wall of Cuddy's home for the past half hour. The incessant noise was beginning to test the oncologist's patience. His friend had been distant since he'd woken up after spending the night on the sofa, and Wilson had initially assumed it was just because he was hungover, the numerous beer bottles he'd drained disposed of by Cuddy before she'd been called into work for an emergency. Now it was plainly obvious it was more than that. He'd barely made eye contact, let alone spoken to him.

"House!" Wilson finally snapped. "If you're perfecting some kind of torture, it's working."

"If you're not feeling well, you should lie down," he replied emotionlessly, continuing to bounce the ball against the wall and catch it.

"I don't want to lie down. I want to sit here_. In peace_… What the hell is wrong with you?"

There was a deafening silence as House thumbed the white, wavy line that dissected the ball, concentrating on it as if his life depended on it.

"Did you sleep with her?"

"_Who_?"

Wilson had spun round now to face him, as he tried to decipher what his friend was talking about.

"Cuddy," House responded evenly, still avoiding eye contact.

"Seriously?... I can barely stand up for any length of time, let alone maintain an erection. The nearest we got to exchanging bodily fluids was when she watched me coughing my guts up into the toilet this morning. I've had better one night stands."

Wilson was almost incredulous. This was ridiculous. They happened to fall asleep in the same bed, nothing more. Swivelling round on the on the raised, brick flowerbed he was perched on, House finally returned his gaze and evidently he was angry.

"I heard you both talking out here the other day."

Wilson sighed and rubbed his hand across his face.

"That was a private conversation."

"You're deflecting… You did, didn't you?" He gulped and went on. "After I left."

The older man was scrutinizing the man in front of him like he was a criminal, his eyes rapidly darting around his features for signs he was about to lie.

"No!"

"You're lying."

There was a cold certainty to his words.

"I'm not!" Wilson retorted adamantly. "Look, she came to see me the day after the crash to tell me she was leaving."

"So you screwed her as a leaving present," House interrupted. It was a statement of fact, rather than a question. "Thoughtful."

"House, shut up and listen…"

"Oh I'm all ears! Always keen to hear stories about the time my best friend schtupped my ex-girlfriend. Hey, we could compare notes!" he spat sarcastically.

"We didn't sleep together. We _kissed…_" He hesitated before he went on. Honesty was probably the best policy. "It could have gone further, but it _didn't._"

"Who kissed who?"

"Do we really need to do this?"

Ignoring him, he persisted.

"Was it you?"

Almost imperceptibly Wilson shook his head. Dropping his own head down, House shifted uncomfortably and crossed his arms across himself, vindictively scraping his sneaker across an ant that had been minding its business crawling across the patio in front of him. The thought of Cuddy kissing someone else, wanting somebody else always made him feel sick, but this was pure torture. He supposed Wilson's story was plausible, but something wasn't adding up.

"You're telling me Cuddy was coming onto you, all hot and needy, and _you _turned _her _down. I know you Jimmy. Desperation is like an aphrodisiac."

"How many times do I have to tell you House, _nothing happened._"

"If it was all so innocent, you'd have told me."

"In case you've forgotten, I only had to mention Cuddy's name and you told me you weren't interested." It was true. He'd wanted a clean break and yet here he was arguing about her in her home. Life sure threw some curveballs. "Did it occur to you I didn't tell you because you'd do _this_?"

The former diagnostician shook his head and stared his friend squarely in the eye.

"I don't believe you."

Sighing, Wilson stood up and walked towards House, who was still resting on the edge of the flower bed.

"There's nothing I can do about that." Moving away beleagueredly Wilson made his way back inside. "I'm going to lie down."

Still not finished House stood up and followed him.

"Is the kid yours?... Is this why we're here? You thought you'd bring me along for a cosy family reunion?"

Wilson stopped in his tracks and span round.

"Are you serious?"

"As cancer James," House retorted stonily, his eyes cooly regarding the sick man in front of him. Somewhere deep down he knew it was way below the belt, but his mouth was on auto-pilot.

"Ok. You want to know the truth?"

"It's what I've been waiting for."

Leaning against the jamb of the windows, House smugly folded his arms, awaiting the confession he expected to hear.

"Fine… When a beautiful woman tells you she wants to sleep with you, you think twice. When she's kissing you and telling you she wants you, the easiest thing in the world is to let your dick override your brain. Believe me, the part of me that was angry with you wanted to, but I couldn't do it…. She was a mess. We both were… But I couldn't do that to her. After everything that happened she needed a friend, not someone to make herself feel better with for twenty minutes."

House shifted his weight onto his good leg, and jammed his hands clumsily into his jeans' pockets like a naughty schoolboy. The possibility that Wilson was telling the truth started to creep its way into his psyche.

"Wild overestimation of your sexual prowess there," House jibed half-heartedly.

There it was. The usual deflection to avoid an apology.

"I am so fed up with your bullshit House… Even if we did sleep together, which we didn't, you don't have the right to get pissed. Even if I had fathered a child with her, which I didn't, _owing to the fact we've never actually had sex_, it's none of your business. Any say or input you had on Cuddy's life ended the day you decided to drive your car into her home…"

"But…" House's eyes batted wildly as he tried to put together a coherent sentence.

"But what?... You could have killed her… As it is she had to uproot herself and Rachel, and left a job you and I both know she loved."

Digging his thumb and forefinger into the corners of his eyes, Wilson inhaled deeply. He felt queasy and dizzy, but he was determined to put his point across.

"You ok?" The question was practically a whisper.

Letting his hand drop back down to his side, the oncologist looked directly at his best friend.

"No I'm not!... I just realised what a selfish bastard I was bringing you here, and making her have to face you every day."

House's mouth dropped open. A few minutes ago he'd been furious and now he was the one feeling stupid and wracked with guilt, and rightly so. Imagining what it must be like for her to see him in her home after what he did to her was almost unbearable. Both stuck to the spot, the two men heard the front door open and the subject of their argument calling out a greeting. A wave of nausea crept up from the pit of House's stomach. He couldn't be there with her, not after this. Barging past Wilson he walked into the living room and made his way to the front door, only to be stopped abruptly in his tracks by Cuddy, who was walking in the opposite direction from the hallway.

"Hi," she offered with a small smile, tiredly rubbing the back of her neck.

"I need to go," he replied shiftily.

Walking past her, he grabbed his jacket, opened the door and stepped outside without looking back, leaving her utterly bewildered. Noticing Wilson heading towards the guest room she thought she'd get some clarity on the situation there, but before she could open her mouth he'd already put paid to that.

"Don't ask!" he exclaimed, throwing his arms in the air in a display of annoyance.

Meandering her way through the house Cuddy wandered into the kitchen, and noticing the open French windows stepped outside. There on the patio was a tennis ball rolling around in the breeze. Picking it up, she placed it back in its spot in the corner of the flower bed where it belonged.

Waking up to the sound of glass breaking, Cuddy nervously crept downstairs half expecting to see the sight that greeted her; House sat in the dark with his head resting listlessly on his palm, a finger tracing of the rim of the glass in front of him and a bottle of whiskey on the counter next to it, both from her cupboard. The drink had been a gift from a donor who'd seen the pictures of Rachel and Jacob in her office and assumed she was married, offering it as a present for her husband. Not quite sure why, she went along with it.

"I broke a glass. It's in the sink… I'm sorry," he mumbled without turning to look at her, and then swallowed the contents of his glass in one go. "You really need to step up security at the back of the house. Any bum could let himself in."

"Thanks for the tip," she countered dryly.

"I'd offer you a drink seen as it's yours, but then that'd mean less for me."

He finished the sentence with a hiccup and a breathy chuckle. From his demeanour he'd clearly drunk his way through the day, causing Cuddy to exhale deeply. She couldn't be bothered to deal with him when he was like this during the daytime, let alone in the middle of the night when she was struggling to keep her eyes open.

"I'm going to back to bed."

"Don't," pleaded a small voice, bordering on pathetic.

Throughout the years she'd known him as his boss and then his girlfriend, she'd lost count of the times he'd turned up at her house drunk, and she'd felt obliged to deal with him. Now there was no obligation. _In theory._

"I have to be up early…" She cut herself off before explaining that she had to make a call first thing in the morning. There was no reason for her to justify her actions to him. Truth be known there never had been, but it was almost a reflexive response. Nobody currently in her home had ever been big on maintaining personal boundaries.

House nodded his head and reached into his pocket, pulling out his Vicodin bottle and pouring a number of pills into his mouth like they were candy, reaching for his glass and washing them down. Determined she wasn't going to give him an audience for his pity party, Cuddy turned on her heel and began to walk away when he asked her a question that glued her to the spot.

"Why did you leave me?"

At some point she'd expected this to happen, as much as she wanted to avoid it. The initial awkwardness and some semblance of a truce, was always inevitably going to give way to questions and recriminations. It was in his nature to pick at a scab until it bled so he could see what was underneath, regardless of the damage it would do.

"I'm not doing this now."

"Now's as good a time as any." There was a pause as he watched her struggle with what to do from the back. "Please."

Finally her shoulders sagged and she turned round, walking towards him and sitting on a stool opposite, uneasily adjusting her dressing gown as she got comfortable and braced herself for what was to come.

"You know exactly why I left you… I couldn't do _this_." She gestured towards the drink and the half empty pill bottle. "Every time something goes wrong, you do this."

"You knew that long before we got together…"

"Thinking you can deal with something and actually having to do it are two different things."

"You're telling me," he responded mock jovially.

For a moment or two they sat in silence, Cuddy running her finger over a blemish on the counter and House swirling around the couple of drops of liquid left in his glass.

"After the cancer scare I realised you were never going to be there for me. Not up here." She tapped her temple. "It's just not who you are..."

"I tried." His voice was tinged a mixture of desperation and anger.

"I know… But the thing you thought would bring you closer, just pushed you further away…" He knew she was talking about the Vicodin. "I felt more alone after I found out, than I did when you wouldn't come to see me."

"I wanted to be there… More than anything I wanted to be there."

House gripped the glass tightly as he said it, Cuddy looking on as his nail beds whitened at the pressure. This wasn't easy for him to talk about either.

"It wasn't enough… I couldn't…"

"Couldn't what?" he pushed.

"There were always going to be other times when your first instinct was to reach for the Vicodin. I couldn't live with that hanging over my head… I couldn't sit around and wait for the day your liver would give up, or I'd find you dead… Rachel even…" She winced at the thought. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to watch someone you care about slowly kill themselves?... I couldn't do it. I couldn't put my daughter through that."

House sat quietly considering what she'd said, before opening his mouth again.

"You should have married Lucas… You should never have come to mine that night."

Cuddy sighed and rolled her eyes. If she was honest the thought had crossed her mind, but she'd always ended up dismissing it.

"So this was all my fault?"

"I didn't say that," House countered defensively.

"I didn't love Lucas."

"He was reliable. He was good with Rachel… Best of all he wasn't a drug addict."

"It wasn't enough."

"Love is _way_ overrated," he countered vehemently.

Cuddy shifted awkwardly on her seat.

"My Mom never loved my Dad and I saw what that did to him. The more he loved her, the more she resented him for it. Year after year it hollowed him out.. I'm not that cruel…" She lifted her head and looked him in the eye. "If I have to choose between being with someone I didn't love, or being with a man who could never be there for me, I'd rather be on my own."

House tapped his fingers rhythmically on the surface, and smiled wryly at her.

"Maybe Mr Perfect is one Ivy League educated, football playing insurance rep away." Selfishly he hoped not. God he hoped not.

"There's no such thing." Rubbing her eyes and getting off the stool she continued. "Look House, the reason you're in this state isn't even about me or us. Whatever happened between you and Wilson _is… _I have no idea what went on and frankly I don't care, but you need to make a decision… Either you suck it up and finish what you started here, or you leave tonight and I'll see this through on my own."

"Do you want me to go?"

Cuddy hesitated before she spoke. It would be so easy to say yes, and have him out of her life once and for all.

"We both know that this is just the tip of the iceberg. I had to put him on oxygen tonight and up the dosage on his pain relief. Within a few days he could be doubly incontinent. I want Wilson to have his best friend, but not if you're going to walk out every two minutes…" Stepping forward she put her hand on House's shoulder, making him jolt at the sensation. She hadn't touched him in so long it made him realise how much he'd ached for it. "He loves you, and I know deep down you love him… You owe him this."

There was a heavy silence as she saw him struggle to compose himself. Finally he lifted his head and looked at her with tears forming in his blue eyes, which shone as the moonlight hit them.

"I am so fucking scared…" His voice wobbled as he choked back a sob. Scared of what was to come. Scared he wasn't strong enough. Scared of what would happen afterwards when he was alone.

Seeing a tear run down his face, Cuddy instinctively wiped it away and cupped his cheek. He was vulnerable and right now so was she; a voice at the back of her mind telling her she didn't want this contact to end, and it frightened her. What she thought were long buried feelings bubbled to the surface.

"So am I."

Forcing herself to move her hand away, House's eyelids flickered fleetingly at the loss of her touch. Wordlessly, she backed away and didn't stop moving until she found herself back in her room, climbing into bed and staring at a tiny crack in the ceiling.

_This wasn't happening. _


	5. Chapter 5

_So House was a bit of an idiot in the last chapter, right? I've always thought that where Cuddy is concerned logic and reason flies out of the window with him though._

_Many, many thanks to everybody who's read, reviewed and are sticking with this. As I've said before, I appreciate it so much and it encourages me to keep me writing, so keep it up- even if all you want to do is rant at me. All feedback is good feedback… Well, within reason. _

_Parts of this chapter may have been inspired by me watching Wimbledon…_

_I still don't own House, Wilson and Cuddy. I just wish I did._

* * *

A little past 9 in the morning House burst into the guest room carrying a tray with a steaming plate of food and juice, not failing to notice the nasal cannula and the oxygen cylinder Cuddy had described having to administer during their conversation in the early hours of the morning. It was a huge set-back.

"It's your lucky day Jimmy!" he proclaimed cheerfully, limping carefully over to the empty side of the bed, sitting down and putting the tray down in front of him. "How many of your 27 wives brought you pancakes in bed, huh?"

"I'm not hungry," Wilson replied evenly, not bothering to open his eyes as he layed under the covers. He knew exactly what this was;- a piss poor attempt at an apology and he was having none of it.

Looking down at the pile of food he'd spent the last half an hour preparing, House sighed.

"If you don't eat it, I will."

"Go ahead."

Shrugging his shoulders House picked up a fork and began tucking in, Wilson continuing to feign indifference to his presence. After a couple of minutes the silence got to him.

"You still pissed at me?"

Now Wilson opened his eyes and turned his head towards to his friend, clearly angry.

"What do you think?... Not only did you accuse me of sleeping with Cuddy, as if by some miracle I'm meant to have fathered the child, which if you'd been eavesdropping properly, you'd know she _adopted… _I'm Jewish, House. We don't do the whole "miracle-birth-without-actually-having-sex" thing."

"Cuddy's no virgin either," House added quietly, his smirk evaporating as his jibe was met with a steely glower. "Ok. I messed up!... I put two and two together and came up with 95. Can we skip the part where you wag your finger at me, and get straight to the kissing and making up?"

"You know this is awkward enough without you jumping to conclusions."

"Clearly not," he muttered under his breath, pushing a piece of pancake around the plate with his fork.

"Look, I know you and Cuddy have a past." Even as Wilson said it he realised it was a ridiculous understatement. Rarely did people have relationships that were that 'eventful'. "And, yeah, it's my fault that we're here, but for once do you think you could cut the crap and make an effort?"

House saw the desperate expression on Wilson's face. He was right. He had to be on his best behaviour to make the whole thing remotely bearable. He owed that, at least, to both the people he was currently sharing a living space with.

"So how come you didn't sleep with Cuddy?... What's wrong with her?"

His sick friend inhaled deeply and rolled his eyes, but he wasn't angry. This was House working out the last of his hang ups and curiosity over the matter, so he was prepared to humour him.

"There's nothing wrong with her… We've just never been like that." He paused as his brow furrowed and stared thoughtfully at the ceiling. "Trust me, I know what you saw in her. I've always known that, but she's like… She's more like family to me. It just felt wrong."

Almost instantaneously House felt a wave of relief breaking over him, any cloying doubts that Wilson was lying to him being washed away once and for all. What he'd said made sense and added to the guilt he felt over making the accusations in the first place. Over the years, the two of them had bonded over getting him out of various scrapes, but there was a deep-seated trust and mutual respect between them that transcended their link to him. Sure, they'd usually sided with him if the chips were really down and it came to having to pick sides, but they were protective of each other too. Rubbing the back of his neck, he couldn't get to grips with how wrong he'd been.

A knock at the door snapped him out of his thoughts, as Cuddy popped her head into the room with a pair of sunglasses propped on top of her head. Looking at the slight dark circles under her eyes, which were no doubt a result of her interrupted sleep, he reasoned she's probably worn them to shield everybody else from her tiredness, as much as the Sun from her eyes.

"We could've been naked in here…" House declared in a mock stern voice.

Briefly screwing her nose up in disgust, Cuddy looked directly at House.

"I need a hand."

Too much for him to resist, he had to say something.

"_Really_?" He'd barely uttered the last syllable before Wilson's elbow connected sharply with his ribs, his head snapping towards House and eyes narrowing, urging him to behave himself. Resignedly, he swung his legs off the bed and stood up. "What's up?"

Wordlessly, Cuddy gestured for him to follow her, so he did, limping a few steps behind her as she walked through the office, the living room and then the hallway, before stepping out of the front door. House had to admit his curiosity had been piqued, and besides there were worse sights in a morning than an unobstructed view of Cuddy's ass in a figure-hugging pair of jeans. Sometimes keeping your mouth shut had its advantages. Opening the trunk of her car she turned to him.

"I need to get this in the house…" She nodded towards the folded bed frame and mattress in front of her in the car. "As much as I enjoy torturing you, apparently making you sleep on the chair in there is against the Geneva convention."

House smiled at her.

"Thanks."

"I'm glad you decided to stay," Cuddy said as she pulled the mattress towards her and avoided eye contact. Honestly she didn't know how she felt about it. Their talk a few hours previously had left her reeling. Even now she felt nervous around him. "Wilson needs you."

Helping her pull it out of the car, they settled it on the ground.

"I know… I guess I just needed a kick up the ass, and if anybody's qualified to do that..." Out of the corner of his eye he noticed her mouth curl up into a smile. Grabbing hold of the thick string that had been tied round the mattress to double it over, he lifted it up. "I can manage this."

"Sure?" She looked at his leg and then moved her gaze up to his own, observing him with a mixture of concern and uncertainty.

"Positive… Give me a minute and I'll come back and help you with the frame."

She nodded and watched him limp back the few steps into the house, observing how much leaner he seemed since she'd last seen him, probably as a result of not looking after himself out on the road. He looked good though. It irritated her how good he looked.

"Perfect timing!" House exclaimed.

A baffled looking Cuddy stood in the hallway removing her jacket, before picking the bag of groceries off the floor again and stepping into the living room. Wilson was laid down on the sofa huddled under the throw, looking disinterested and drawn, whilst House loaded a game into the console and was fiddling with the TV remote control.

"You desperate for orange juice?" she asked, lifting the bag in her hand and still utterly confused.

"Nope. You are going to let me whoop your ass at tennis for Wilson's entertainment."

Picking up one of the controllers he held it out towards her, just as Wilson let out an exasperated sigh. All afternoon House had been offering to do things for his "entertainment", including half seriously suggesting they find a strip joint. He knew his friend meant well, but all day all he'd wanted to do was lie down, get some rest and have the opportunity to think.

"No way," Cuddy replied walking into the kitchen and putting the few items she'd bought away.

"It's either this or… Animal Kingdom." His face scrunched up in disgust as he looked at the cover of the game he'd just picked up. "Jesus, Cuddy what is this? Where's the naked women and gratuitous violence?"

Making her way towards him from the kitchen, she grabbed the game from his hand and put it back where it was in the drawer behind him.

"Rachel's not into that, _surprisingly_." Her eyebrow raised, as she emphasised the last word, before her hands hooked into the back pocket of her jeans, scanning around the room to see if there was anything that needed doing.

"Tennis it is then." Again he held the controller out towards her.

"No… I've got stuff to do."

"Like what?" Cuddy opened her mouth to speak, but didn't know what to say. "Come on! If not for me, the least you can do is let Wilson stare at your ass wriggling about for half an hour."

The former oncologist's head shot up in a flash, his hands helping to articulate his defence.

"Whoa!... I'm not even…"

"Fine… Wilson can stare at my ass, whilst I kick yours."

She hesitated, glancing from the man on the sofa to the one in front of her. Nothing would give her greater pleasure than wiping the smug smirk off House's face, but she'd already decided to keep away from him as much as was possible with them living in the same house for the time being.

"Have you two even eaten?"

"Wilson's not hungry, and I raided your cookie jar… Come on, I am soooo bored."

"No," she said defiantly, turning on her heel and starting to walk away with a smile on her face. Pissing him off was still enjoyable. "You'll just have to amuse yourself on your own."

A few steps later a clucking sound stopped her in her tracks.

"You too chicken Cuddy?"

Rotating back around she glared at him, her tongue stuck into the side of her cheek, bemused. She'd missed this: somebody above the age of 5 having the balls to challenge her on something, anything. Besides what harm could it really do? Re-closing the distance between them she snatched the controller from his hand.

"One game, and then I'm going to cook something that actually has some nutritional value."

House nodded and not so discreetly looked her up and down.

"Fine by me… Prepare yourself for a metaphorical spanking."

An hour later and Wilson had dosed off, whilst Cuddy was well on her way to winning her third successive match. Becoming increasingly disgruntled, her opponent had taken to nudging her with his elbow to try and put her off, but to no avail.

"I'm letting you win…"

"Sure you are, House." The sentence dripped with sarcasm.

Serving, she effortlessly hit an ace causing him to grunt his disdain.

"Must feel good to beat a cripple, huh?"

There was no real malice in what he said, but Cuddy could tell it was getting on his nerves. All the more reason to wind him up.

"Absolutely. Sometimes I break the paraplegics out of the ward and challenge them to a round of golf." He laughed as he swung his arm round, forcing her to move swiftly out of the way and yet still fluffing his shot. "In case you've forgotten, this wasn't my idea."

"I need a drink."

Pausing the game, House took a step back and grabbed the glass of ice water he'd brought back from the kitchen about 10 minutes previously. Taking a sip, he watched Cuddy remove her pink cardigan, revealing a white vest top that didn't quite cover her red bra straps at the back, and tie back her hair with a band she'd had on her wrist. As he placed the glass back down on the side table next to the chair, the ice clinking together gave him an idea that twisted his mouth into a mischievous grin. There was more than one way to cool down.

"Hurry up woman!… I believe you're serving for the match, which is where I stage my epic comeback."

Narrowing her eyes at him she could tell he was planning something. He had _that _look on his face, and seemed a little too pleased with himself for someone who was well and truly being taught a lesson. Maybe he had been letting her win after all. Picking up the controller she strode back to the spot she'd been playing in before.

"I hope you've prepared your 'stoic-in-defeat' face."

"Pride always comes before a fall, Cuddy." He wiggled his eyebrows at her provocatively. "Always."

"Whatever, House."

For a second he heard the 21 year old med student he'd met all those years ago, rather than the woman stood next to him in her early forties. Water dripped from his closed fist onto the carpet.

_Play the goddamn shot!_

As if hearing his silent plea she unpaused the game, and lifted her arm to take the shot. Moving swiftly, he sidestepped behind her and dropped the two ice cubes he'd been clasping down the back of her top. A shrill shriek escaped her mouth, jolting Wilson awake. Frantically Cuddy pulled at her vest trying to free the lumps of ice that had slid down to the base of her spine, as House was practically doubled over laughing at her.

"You…," Cuddy said accusingly, seemingly unsure as to how to finish the sentence and wiping her damp hands on her jeans. "You ass!"

"I think you lost the point," he countered with a self-satisfied grin. Pursing her lips she sneered back at him, before averting her attention back to her own glass of water. There was no way he was getting away with this unscathed. "You wouldn't dare?"

Slowly, but purposefully she went and picked up her glass, swirling the contents thoughtfully and staring him straight in the eye.

"Try me."

Realising she wasn't joking, House gulped and pointed at the floor.

"Rug looks expensive Cuddy."

Stepping closer towards him, she shrugged her shoulders, ran her index finger around the rim of the glass and dipped it in the liquid inside.

"It's water. It'll dry." She punctuated the 'dry' by flicking the water on the end of her finger in his face, making him blink reflexively.

"You honestly think I'm going to let you pour a glass of water over me, and just stand here?"

She took a step closer and tilted her head to look up at him, accentuating the height difference between them.

"I don't know House. _What are you going to do_?" Every word was enunciated defiantly.

They were so close now that he could hear her breathing and smell her perfume; stimuli which made the hairs stand up on the back of his neck and more embarrassingly caused certain other parts of his anatomy to pay attention. For large parts of his adult life all she had to do was give him a certain look, and he'd be turned on. It didn't matter if they were in the middle of a yelling match over wanting to biopsy someone's brain, or engaging in something altogether more affectionate, his body always screamed out for her, no matter how much his own brain tried to override it. It could be as frustrating as hell, but exciting too and right now was no different. His eyes fleeting from hers to her lips and back up again, he realised there was a gaping chasm between what he wanted to do in this present moment, and what was in any way acceptable in the current situation. He wanted her. Badly.

A deliberate cough snapped their attention away from each other and towards the sofa.

"Before World War III breaks out I'd really like to get in my bunker."

Without either of them noticing, Wilson had swung his legs onto the floor and sat up, now staring at them with his eyebrow raised like a stern parent who'd just caught two teenagers making out. Taking a step away from House, Cuddy put the glass of water down on the coffee table to the side of her and rubbed the back of her neck nervously. She could feel her cheeks turn crimson.

"I… erm… should ring my sister anyway."

Already helping Wilson to his feet, House regarded her with a frown. Within the space of a few seconds her body language had gone from openly confident to guarded once again. God, she puzzled him. Returning his gaze she watched him split his attention between looking where he was going and glancing back at her, as her heart thumped loudly in her chest and butterflies danced around in her stomach. When they finally rounded the corner she flopped back onto the sofa and took a deep breath. Idiotically, irrationally, inappropriately she realised she'd felt and reacted much the same way when she'd first met a tall, older, attractive, but infuriatingly cocky fellow med student, who was working at the campus bookstore over twenty years ago.

The more things changed, the more they stayed the same.

"You need anything else?"

Wilson shook his head and adjusted the cannula round the back of his ear, before resting his head on the pillow. He was shattered, but there was something on his mind. In the corner of the room House had started making the bed he and Cuddy had brought in earlier, his back to his friend as he stretched the sheet over the mattress.

"She still cares about you," Wilson said quietly. For a couple of seconds the former diagnostician stopped what he was doing, then continued smoothing the sheet out with the palm of his hand. Usually he couldn't care less if his sheets were creased, but this was giving him something to focus on that wasn't the impending lecture. "Did you hear what I said?"

"I heard what you said, but I'm choosing to ignore you… Go to sleep." His tone remained even as he plumped a pillow and threw it on the small bed.

After a pregnant pause, not one to let something lie once he had the bit between his teeth, Wilson persisted.

"She was different with you today… More relaxed."

Realising he wasn't going to any peace until they talked, House sighed and sat down on the bed, shuffling backwards until his head rested against the wall behind him and his legs hung over the side.

"We talked last night… well, this morning…" There was no way he was going into any details. For one, he wasn't exactly proud of rocking up to the house blind drunk, and there was no real reason for Wilson to know he'd nearly cried like a little girl in front of his ex-girlfriend. It was part pride, part down to the fact there was no need for his friend to know that he was petrified by this whole thing too. He already had enough on his plate. "Agreed to call a truce while I'm here for the sake of humanity."

Across the way Wilson appeared to be processing what he'd said.

"You have to apologise to her."

There was no mistaking what he was talking about.

"And there he is!" House exclaimed, throwing his hands into the air and rolling his eyes. "My portable conscience."

"I know it'll be hard…"

"_Hard_?" he interrupted. Hard didn't even come close to covering it, but that wasn't the point. "You want me to apologise because what?... It'll undo the fact I drove my car into her home and put her life in danger, without considering all the times she scraped my ass off the floor?… Because she'll hear me say I'm sorry and run into my arms telling me she still loves me?... Or maybe because she'll find it possible to even begin to forgive me for what I did?... We both know none of that's _ever_ going to happen."

Slowly, Wilson propped himself up and looked his best friend square in the eye.

"You know House, one day this'll be you… It could be months or years from now, but eventually it'll be you laid in a bed somewhere with your body breaking down, and your mind working overtime on every single regret you've ever had…" The sick man looked down, watching himself push his thumb against his index finger and observing he'd even lost weight there. He'd seen this happening to so many people before, but now it was him it felt surreal. "Sometimes it's stupid stuff like wishing I'd rung my parents more, but more often than not I regret screwing up every single one of my marriages… The stupid arguments I had with Amber before she died, or just not being there for my brother…"

House rubbed his sore leg and shifted uncomfortably on the bed.

"Starting to feel like I'm taking confession," he muttered jokily under his breath.

"I regret writing all of those Vicodin scripts over the years too… and the ones I didn't."

"That's nothing to do with you. You didn't force the pills down my throat," House breathed dismissively, pausing to rub his hand across his tired eyes. He really didn't want to get into the ins and outs of his addiction now. "I know where you're going with this, and yeah, maybe I will regret it… I'm not going to push Cuddy into a situation where she feels like she has to stop being pissed with me though... She has the right to stay angry with me."

"What if she needs to hear it?... You've been a massive part of each other's lives for so long."

Nearly wincing at his friend's use of the past tense with regards to his relationship with Cuddy, he realised how much he hated the finality of it all. There'd always been some flicker of hope in the past, but now everything about where they currently were in their lives had effectively stamped that out.

"What's the point?... I'm legally dead and she's moved on." There was a hint of irritation in his voice, which didn't go unnoticed.

"That _is_ my point. I don't think she has," Wilson retorted calmly. In fact he was sure of it. He'd watched the whole exchange in the living room when Cuddy had threatened to pour the glass of water over him, and he'd seen just how 'involved' she still was. "Despite everything she cares, no matter how angry she still is with you…"

"She's tolerating me."

"_She cares, House._" He wasn't letting this go. It needed to be said. "Which is precisely why you owe her an apology… It doesn't matter if you walk out of here after I'm gone, and never see her again… Cuddy needs to know that you hate what you did to her, and that she didn't waste years of her life laying herself on the line for a completely heartless bastard."

For House it felt like a light going on in his head. His friend was right. Absolutely right, but how would he even broach the subject with her. It wasn't the type of thing you just dropped into a conversation. Things were running so smoothly at the moment that he was loathe to jeopardise that. He wasn't even sure if he was capable of saying the words. It had never come easily in the past. He really needed to think this through.

"Can I go to sleep now, or are their more words of wisdom you feel the need to impart?"

Shrugging his shoulders, Wilson sat back and switched off the lamp, as the man in the corner of the room picked his cover up off the floor, pulled it over himself and laid down on his side.

"Goodnight, John-Boy."

"Goodnight, House."

To the sound of a dog barking in the distance, they both closed their eyes.


	6. Chapter 6

_If things go to plan we're officially half way! Thank you so much to everybody who's continuing to read, review, alert and favourite,- it's great to know I still have you on-board._

_So here's the bit I've been dreading writing. I hope I've done it justice. There's no getting round the fact that this chapter is pretty depressing, but I have tried to lighten it up where I can. Don't blame me, blame David Shore._

_I don't own them unfortunately._

* * *

For nearly a week, the days seemed to roll into one another in a haze of snatched sleep and an undercurrent of foreboding for everybody currently living in the house. Because Wilson's health had declined so quickly both House and Cuddy knew he'd developed pneumonia, and as a result they'd decided to take it in shifts being with him; one sitting with him, as the other took a break either grabbing something to eat, or more often than not, getting some sleep on the sofa in the living room. Feverish, often finding it hard to breathe and bed-ridden he resolutely refused when his best friend asked him if he was sure he didn't want to go into hospital, and begged to be allowed to die where he was. Once again House reaffirmed his promise.

The following afternoon he was walking back into the living room holding a bowl of cereal, when he spotted Cuddy about to walk through and head upstairs, her head ineffectually tilting forward so her hair would cover her face, as she dabbed at her eyes with the sleeve of her long grey cardigan and tucked what appeared to be a small rectangular piece of paper into her pocket. Something was evidently up.

"Everything ok?" he asked tentatively, placing the bowl down on the coffee table and walking towards her. Every time he was out of the guest room he dreaded not being there when something happened. "Is Wilson…?"

Stopping where she was, Cuddy leant forward and took a tissue from the box on the end table.

"He's asleep," she replied quietly, wiping her red eyes and looking decidedly uncomfortable.

Unconsciously House exhaled deeply out of relief, and sank onto the arm of the chair behind him, only then realising his heart had been thumping hard in his chest.

"Ok."

"I need… I've got stuff…" Cuddy fumbled, beginning once more to withdraw from the room.

"Wait a minute…" Instinctively he reached out in front of him and clumsily caught hold of her fingertips just as she turned the other way. Under his thumb he could feel the dampness of her tears on her sleeve. "What's up?"

Turning back round, she looked down at where they'd made contact as if in shock, but made no effort to pull away.

"I'm fine."

"You don't look fine."

"Thanks," she countered wiping another tear away with her free hand.

"Look Cuddy, if you don't tell me I'll have to torture it out of you. Pretty sure I can find a pair of tweezers around here somewhere."

Despite herself she laughed.

"I'd like to see you try." A weak smile spread across her lips.

There was a brief pause as he ran his thumb along the back of her hand, enjoying the brief intimacy. Still she didn't try to break away.

"If there's something I need to know…" For a millisecond he thought he saw panic dance across her eyes before he went on. "I mean about Wilson."

"No… No it's not… Well it is, but…"

"In English?" House asked, his face contorting into a quizzical expression.

He watched her as her eyes seemed to examine every inch of his face, and then fall to where their hands met, focusing on him slowly tracing circles on the back of her hand.

"I hate this… I hate not being able to do anything." Her voice cracked causing her to pause for a second, as she closed her eyes and gulped back the tears. "I hate seeing him like this… And I'm missing the kids… I'm being an idiot."

Seeing a tear form in the corner of her eye and then break away to roll down her right cheek, House stood up and reached out with a shaky hand to wipe it away. His usual response to seeing someone in tears and hurting so much would be to run a mile, but like all he found himself wanting to do was be close to her. Sure he wanted to comfort her, but it was far from a completely altruistic response. He felt like there was one person left in the world who had any idea what he was going through right now, and here she was expressing the same anguish that had been twisting his guts for months.

"You're not an idiot," he murmured, wiping another tear away.

Moving his hand away from her cheek, Cuddy took a step closer to him and rested her head cautiously just below his shoulder, slowly snaking her arms up his back and pressing the tips of her fingers into the muscles she could feel under his t-shirt. Hesitantly at first, House responded by wrapping his own arms around her, lightly initially but then more tightly, resting his chin gently on the top of her head and closing his eyes. He'd craved for this for so long: the closeness he'd tried to replicate with numerous hookers, but was never the same. When they'd been together, and even before, physical proximity had always been the way they'd shown their affection for each other. It didn't matter if they were having sex or merely holding hands, for two people who so often opened their mouths and put their foot in it with each other, the ability to touch each other was often their most honest and important form of communication.

For several minutes they stood in silence just holding each other, neither wanting to ruin the moment, before Cuddy finally felt the need to speak.

"He wants me to call a lawyer."

"Did he get married again while we weren't looking?"

In response he could feel Cuddy smile into his chest, but they both knew this was Wilson trying to make sure everything was in order before the time came and it filled them with a clawing sense of dread. Lifting her head from against him, she tilted it upwards and looked at him.

"I should go."

"Me too…" Looking down at his watch, he continued. "General Hospital starts in about 3 minutes. The only way I can get Wilson to watch it these days is if he's unconscious."

"Nice to see you've got your priorities straight."

"Always," he replied, wiping the remnants of her tears away with from under her eyes with both of his thumbs. "Go talk to your kids."

Weakly she nodded and stepped away, wrapping her arms around herself, leaving him wondering if she was as bereft at the loss of contact as he was, his skin tingling everywhere he'd felt her against him.

"If you need me… If anything…"

"I'll holler."

Turning around she slowly walked away and headed up the stairs, House noting the usual sway in her hips was muted probably through tiredness and her general mood. Deciding to move himself he took a step and felt something under his foot. Bending down he picked up what appeared to be a rectangular piece of paper, and flipping it over to reveal the woman he'd just held in his arms, half smiling at the camera, half diverting her attention to the little boy who was clutching onto her neck as she held onto him, and shyly regarding the person taking the photo as if he'd just woken up.

From what House could remember he looked slightly older than in the picture he'd seen in his bedroom, but there were the same blue eyes nervously looking back at him, his small hands clutched tightly onto Cuddy's collarbone seeking out comfort and reassurance from his Mother. Rubbing his finger lightly over her face it suddenly occurred to House how she had nobody to do the same for her. She may be surrounded by people at work and even have the kids at home, but it didn't stop her from being lonely; a loneliness which he'd sensed when he held felt her arms around him, and one which he recognised all too well.

Placing the photo down on the edge of the coffee table reverentially, he picked up his cereal and made his way into the guest room.

* * *

What woke him was the dull ache in his hand where he'd been resting his head when he'd dozed off in the chair they'd moved next to the bed. Straightening himself up and working his wrist joint around, House opened his eyes and was greeted by another pair staring back at him.

"I've been meaning to tell you that this whole watching me sleep thing is kinda creepy." Laying on his side Wilson smiled back at him, his mouth concealed by the oxygen mask, but the amusement showing in his eyes. "You in pain?"

Wilson responded by shaking his head and looking at his friend thoughtfully, eventually lowering his mask under his chin awkwardly.

"I think I'm ready."

"Uh-uh," his friend replied quickly, nervously shifting his gaze to the carpet. "We're not doing this."

"Doing what?"

"The grand speech where you tell me to always wear clean underwear and eat my greens," House jibed.

Wilson laughed weakly.

"Thank you," he offered, feebly rubbing at his eyes as House noticed the deep blue of his nail beds in the soft glow emanating from the lamp.

"What for?"

"For this," the sick man responded. "For not letting me die of boredom… I was destined to have all the excitement of a cloistered nun in my life before I met you."

"Hey those ladies are _wild_!" House joked chirpily, a sincere smile settling on his face as he observed his friend. What both of their lives would have been like if they'd never met didn't bear thinking about. "You're welcome."

Comfortably they sat in silence for few minutes as House leant forward and rested his head in hands, briefly glancing at the digital display on the clock to confirm he'd only slept for about half an hour. Apart from the hour or so where Wilson had insisted he talked to the lawyer alone the day before, he'd barely left his side, petrified that he wouldn't be there when the time came. Knowing it was something he needed to do, Cuddy had unobtrusively checked on them at regular intervals, bringing him his meals and eating with him in the room as they chatted quietly, generally with Wilson fast asleep on the bed.

"If you ever hurt Cuddy again I'll come back and haunt you," the former oncologist mumbled with droopy eyelids.

"Wilson the mild-mannered ghost?..." House asked sceptically. "I've had more frightening bouts of indigestion."

"I'm not joking."

"I know," he responded seriously. "I'm sure I'll last the 10 minutes it takes for her to kick me out."

"She won't."

Looking away again, House took a deep breath and scratched the back of his head. He'd tried to push what was going to happen afterwards to the back of his mind from the moment they'd left New Jersey, but it was getting increasingly harder to ignore.

"Yeah… Well…"

"You both deserve to be happy…" Wilson mumbled with closed eyes.

Looking at him incredulously, House suddenly felt furious. How could he even begin to talk about what people deserved when he, himself, had ended up with such an ill-deserved fate?

"What difference does it make?... I'm not even sure…" A raspy snore interrupted what he was saying, just as he was about to launch into tirade on the rights and wrongs of what people deserved. Reaching out he moved the mask back over Wilson's face gently and sat back in the chair, resting his head behind him. "Typical!"

Two hours later, just before the clock was about to tick over to 4 am, House watched as Wilson inhaled deeply, exhaled with one last rattle and his chest stop moving.

* * *

As the morning sunlight struck through the window onto her face, Cuddy stretched her leg in front of her and felt something solid blocking her path. Lifting her head abruptly, she squinted into the sunlight and saw House sat on the floor at her feet, his mouth slightly agape as he seemingly stared at the rug in front of him, his palms perched listlessly on his lap. Instantly she knew. Calmly swinging her legs carefully past him, she sat up and slipped on the floor next to him, straight away noticing the cold on the backs of her thighs where her night shorts didn't cover them.

"House," she said quietly, but got no response; his gaze still fixed in front of him. Placing her hand on his forearm she tried again a little louder. "House."

Turning his head, he looked at her with glassy eyes that were outlined with deep, dark circles, the lines in his forehead furrowing deeply as he frowned at her.

"You're cold," he mumbled absent-mindedly, glancing down at the hand resting on his arm.

"I'm ok… House?"

"He's gone." The way he intonated it, it almost sounded like a question. "Wilson's gone."

On finally hearing the words leave his mouth Cuddy's shoulders sank. She'd had this gnawing feeling of trepidation in the pit of her stomach since he'd collapsed into her home on the night they'd first turned up, but actually knowing it was all over did nothing to make her feel better. In that moment she wanted to sit in a corner and cry, but right now her main priority was the man sitting next her, and how he was going to react. He was clearly in shock, and she had no idea if he was a ticking time bomb. Moving her hand further down his arm, she laced her fingers through his and gripped tightly.

"I am so sorry…"

"So am I," he offered, looking down at where their hands met as if he couldn't come to terms with the fact she could bring herself to touch him.

Fleetingly, Cuddy glanced towards the entrance to the office that led to the guest room.

"Did you say goodbye to him properly?"

"He's _dead_ Cuddy!" House snapped, the rise in the volume of his voice making her flinch slightly. Immediately he regretted it. "Sorry."

"It's ok."

"No it's not," he responded decisively. He hated the thought of frightening her after everything she'd done for Wilson. Every time somebody was nice to him he had to fuck it up. "It should have been me."

Pulling her hand away from him, she sighed and shook her head.

"You are unbelievable."

"What?"

"I was wondering how long the self-pity and self-loathing would take to set in."

"You're honestly saying you wouldn't prefer it if it was me in there?" he asked cynically, gesturing in the general direction of the room he'd left a little while before.

The question felt like a punch in the gut, visibly knocking the air out of her lungs, as House waited for an answer. For what felt like an eternity for both of them she found herself unable to respond, the words jumbling in her mind before they could find their way out of her mouth.

"You asshole," she eventually spat, her eyes starting to glaze over with tears as she got to her feet. The need to get away from him, away from what he'd just said, making her move swiftly. She felt sick.

Scrambling to his feet as fast as his leg would allow, he followed her and grabbed hold of her hand again, once more noticing how cold she was.

"Cuddy…"

Slowly she turned back around and faced him, her features painted with a mixture of hurt and anger. Roughly she pulled her hand away.

"You think I threw a party when I found out you were dead?... That I just shrugged it off and went about business as usual?" House shrugged and looked down at the floor. He'd often wondered, but he genuinely didn't have a clue. If someone had done to him what he'd done to her, he wasn't sure how he'd feel in that situation. A little calmer, she continued. "It still hurt. Despite everything, it still hurt."

"Why?"

She looked past him, as if she was searching for what she wanted to say.

"I don't know… I can't turn on and off how I feel," Cuddy answered honestly, wrapping her arms around her shoulders and rubbing the tops of her arms to keep warm, realising the lack of sleep over the past few days was clearly getting to her. "Wilson didn't deserve this… Nobody really does, but wishing it was you instead doesn't do anybody any good."

Processing what she'd just said to him, he shifted uncomfortably on the spot, a searing pain shooting up his leg.

"I wish…" For someone who was usually so articulate, he didn't feel like he had the vocabulary to say what he wanted to. His initial numbness was giving way to an indeterminate ache that outstripped his physical one.

Noting the look of utter desolation spreading across his face, Cuddy stepped forward and placed her hand on his shoulder reassuringly. He didn't have to finish the sentence for her to know what he was trying to say. Neither of them wanted this.

"Me too." Relief spread across his face at the knowledge he was in the company of someone who knew exactly how he was feeling at this present moment; the horrible sense of loss. Watching him like this, Cuddy found it all too easy to imagine the lonely little boy he must have once been. Her first instinct was to sit him down on the sofa, and cradle his head in her lap, but there were too many other things she had to do. "Go upstairs and get some rest on my bed."

"I can't leave him…"

"You didn't," Cuddy insisted, shaking her head and cupping his cheeks with both hands. "_You didn't_… Let me sort this now. I'll make sure they take care of him."

Aside from the fact she wasn't sure he was capable of mentally or physically dealing with what was to come, there was also the small matter of him having faked his own death. Practically, it was better to keep him away from anybody with official connections. Not having the energy to argue with her, House nodded weakly, his eyelids flickering as she ran her fingertips through his hair and once more told him lie down upstairs. She was right, he needed to rest before he collapsed.

Watching him limp heavily out of the room, Cuddy closed her eyes and took a deep breath, deciding to get a change of clothes from the laundry room before she'd say her own goodbyes to Wilson and then call the hospital for a doctor, and the funeral director.

Several hours later Cuddy shut the front door behind her and leant against it, a whole wave of emotions rolling over her, from relief to deep sadness; her mind replaying the moment she'd stepped into the guest room and seen Wilson lying there like he was sleeping peacefully, all the pain he'd endured over the past few months appearing to have vanished from his features. All she hoped was that she'd done enough for him, and given him the dignity he deserved.

In the time since she'd last spoken to House she'd used every bit of composure she had to do what had to be done, and as the nervous energy began to melt away she could feel the exhaustion hit her. Resolving to check on him before she sat down and passed out, Cuddy strode up the stairs and made her way to her bedroom door, placing her hand on the handle about to turn it when something stopped her: the low sound of House quietly sobbing on the other side. Unsure of what to do, she turned away and then turned back her hand smoothing over the woodwork in front of her. More than anything she wanted to open the door, and hold him, but being there and hearing this without him knowing felt too much like an invasion of his privacy.

Heading back to the staircase and slumping down onto the first step, Cuddy cried her own silent tears.


	7. Chapter 7

_So I seem to have managed to make a fair few people cry with that last chapter. I guess that means I did something right, but even so… sorry about that. Another apology is in order for the snail's pace I'm managing to churn this out at. I can only really write on a weekend, but I will aim to keep posting updates at some point on a Monday._

_Thank you so much to everybody who's reading, reviewing etc. I'm really happy that people are getting something out of my mad ramblings._

_Some mild "adult content" in this chapter, folks. It's safe to say this chapter is a bit of a rollercoaster…_

_Shore owns them. Obviously._

* * *

A cool, early evening breeze tickled around the back of House's neck, as he heard the French windows opening and closing behind him, and the unmistakeable sound of Cuddy's footsteps approaching him. After he'd left her room he'd searched the house for her and eventually found her awkwardly curled up on Rachel's bed, fast asleep and breathing deeply, one hand resting under her head and the other clutching tightly onto the bright pink duvet cover underneath her. Whilst he'd stood there with the door ajar a part of him considered bailing there and then, and avoiding the inevitable heartache of her telling him to leave. A bigger part couldn't. Not only did he owe her the common decency of not just upping and leaving without a proper goodbye after everything she'd done, selfishly he couldn't bring himself to put one foot in front of the other and walk out of the house knowing that this was almost certainly the last time he'd ever see her. He'd already lost one of the most important people in his life today, he wasn't about to be complacent about the time he had left with another.

Without looking up he bounced the ball in his hand on the ground, caught it again and was in the process of repeating the action when another hand reached out and gracefully snatched it from him.

"You never would let me play with my balls in peace."

"It's not your ball to play with," Cuddy countered walking, the two or 3 steps to the flower bed and placing the ball back there, before returning to the bench where he was sitting.

Looking her up and down, he saw she'd gotten changed since he'd last seen her, the loose pair of jog pants and baggy top had been substituted for a tight pair of jeans and an equally figure-hugging cerise jumper. More worryingly she had his jacket in her hand as she loomed over him.

"You kicking me out already?" He gulped after he spoke and eyed her nervously, as she sat down next to him.

"No," she said shaking her head and turning to look at him. "We've both been cooped up in here for days. We're going out."

House frowned.

"Where?"

"There's a bar a couple of blocks away… It's not great, but it's a change of scenery."

Of all things he'd expected her to propose when he'd heard her walk out into the garden this wasn't it. Leaning back against the wooden rungs behind him, he drummed his fingers on the arm of the bench and stared out blankly in front him. For so many reasons this wasn't a good idea, and in all likelihood this was just her way of finding a distraction for him so he wouldn't do something stupid. He wanted to prove to her that he didn't need babysitting.

"I don't feel like it," House finally replied, and he meant it. Right now he couldn't bear the thought of being surrounded by other people who were cheerfully going about their lives after Wilson had just lost his. It didn't seem right.

"So you're going to let me get drunk on my own?"

"You'll still go?" he asked, genuinely surprised. Again he'd been wrong.

"If I have to…" Cuddy answered quietly, dropping her head and running her hand down the sleeve of his jacket to smooth a crease. "I need to get out of here."

"You barely even drink."

In response she sighed and looked at him with still tired and sad eyes.

"I've just had one of the worst days of my life. Tonight I drink."

House regarded her carefully, instantly seeing the distress that was bubbling under the determined exterior. Until now he hadn't even considered how hard it must have been for her to keep her composure as she'd waited for the death to be confirmed and the body to be taken away. He'd been too wrapped up in his own grief to even consider it. Clearly she was feeling this as much as he was, but her reaction to it all was still unexpected.

"And you're planning on getting wasted after the lecture you gave me about self-destructing a while back?"

With her jaw set she gave him an answer.

"I'm prepared to be a hypocrite for one night."

Returning her steely gaze he knew she meant it. This was Cuddy's non-negotiable face, but the circumstance for it was throwing him to the point he was starting to wonder if he was dreaming or hallucinating.

"This so isn't you," House said evenly, his contorted frown conveying his own disbelief at the situation. Her questioning his need to get high or drunk over the years was par for the course, but this was new territory altogether. If he was honest with himself he was more than a little concerned about her.

Shrugging her shoulders, Cuddy stood up and loomed over him once again.

"You coming or not?" Her hand stretched out towards him holding his jacket for him to take.

Their eyes locked for what seemed like forever, as House considered what he should do. Him, her and probably copious amounts of alcohol made for a volatile cocktail, especially when he factored in what had happened earlier. He couldn't let them part on bad terms, and there were no guarantees that wouldn't happen if he went with her.

"I should pack…"

He saw the hurt register on her face before she dropped his jacket on the seat next to him.

"Fine." Her heels clicked noisily on the patio tiles, as she put distance between them and headed back inside. "Don't bother waiting up."

Guilt shot through him like an excruciating red hot poker. There was no way he could let her walk out the door on her own when she was like this. Standing up, he turned to where she was just setting foot back into the kitchen.

"Cuddy, wait…" Stopping in her tracks, she span back around just as he picked up his jacket and put his arms in the sleeves. "For the record I'm doing this so the cops don't bring you back at 2 in the morning, because you've been stripping in front of the customers."

A crooked smile spread across her lips.

"In your dreams."

Limping towards her, he returned the smile.

"Totally!"

* * *

Standing at the bar with a twenty dollar bill tucked in between her fingers, Cuddy waited for the barman to bring her the drinks she'd ordered, and turned her attention back to the booth she and House had been sitting in for the last half an hour. Sat with his back to her, he'd been approached by a young, blonde, athletic-looking guy who was leaning down and saying something into her ex's ear; obviously in an attempt to be heard over the general noise of other people talking and the music emanating from the jukebox. Handing over the money and waiting for her change, Cuddy picked up the drinks and walked back to their table, passing the young man on the way, who unapologetically looked her up and down, before re-joining his group of equally young and attractive friends, none of whom could be older than in their early twenties.

"What was that about?" she asked, setting the two bottles of beer down and sitting back down.

"What?"

"The jock…" She gestured with her head towards the table he was sat at.

Thoughtfully House picked up his beer mat and tapped it on the table.

"He wanted to know if we were together…" Seeing her eyebrows raise, he continued. "I told him we weren't… I also told him you were a pre-op transsexual."

"You ass!" Cuddy exclaimed, kicking his shin under the table, and causing him to yelp out in pain.

"Jeez woman! Are you wearing steel toe caps?" House asked bending down to rub his leg. "Hello! Cripple here!"

"If you think that was hard…" she replied unsympathetically, raising one eyebrow as if to challenge him.

"I swear you missed your calling in life as a dominatrix."

Pulling a face at him and then resting her head in her hand, Cuddy turned her attention back in the direction of the young guy, who was now animatedly telling a story, as his friends listened intently.

"It's a shame… He's cute."

"Oh please! You'd break him in half," House spat sarcastically.

In response Cuddy pursed her lips and eyeballed him.

"It's like you want me to hurt you…"

"This is exactly what I mean…" Observing her unimpressed face, the former diagnostician bit his lip to stop himself from laughing out loud and threw his hands in the air in submission. "Fine! For the sake of my shins, go and talk to him."

As if she was considering it, Cuddy narrowed her eyes and looked at House as he dropped his head and shifted about in his seat awkwardly, pretending he was focusing his attention on peeling the label off his beer bottle. He really didn't want her to go, but what right did he have to stop her? The thought of her being pawed at by a guy who was less than half his age twisted his stomach in knots, but this wasn't any of his business. Not anymore.

Finally, she broke the silence.

"I'm good," she said quietly, a small but sincere smile turning up the corners of her mouth and spreading to her eyes.

Without consciously doing it, House felt himself breathing out in relief, completely unaware that he'd been holding his breath in the first place. Lifting up his beer he held it out towards her.

"To Wilson: a better _man_ than both of us."

Cuddy sighed and lifted her own bottle, clinking it against his.

"To Wilson."

* * *

Several rounds of drinks later House was lent forward with a mischievous grin on his face, whilst Cuddy sat back and rested against her elbows, eyeing him sceptically. Between them a neat row of full shot glasses lined the table, dissecting the space between them like a metaphorical No Man's Land. For both of them, as a result of how much they'd had to drink, the room had lost its sharp edges and had come into soft focus.

"Nope," the Dean of Medicine said resolutely, shaking her head. "No way."

House rolled his eyes, and folded his arms.

"Come on!... I'm leaving tomorrow. Who am I going to tell?"

Cuddy sat forward and rested her head in her hands, both elbows planted firmly on the table.

"That's not the point… If I say it was with you, you won't shut up about it. If I don't, you'll sulk."

"I won't," House offered unconvincingly.

"Yeah, you will," she countered, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. "I know you."

Infuriatingly she did, but he was revelling in the back and forth they'd been having since they came out. On today of all days, he hadn't expected to end up enjoying himself.

"Come on!"

Again Cuddy shook her head.

"No."

Realising she wasn't going to budge on the matter, House pushed one of the shot glasses towards her.

"Then you know the rules, lady…"

Picking the glass up, she eyed the clear contents like an old adversary and downed them swiftly, slamming the small vessel back on the table and cringing as the liquid burnt the back of her throat.

"Your turn, same question," Cuddy said, laying down the gauntlet and surprising House with how eager she was to continue. "… But if it involves hookers I don't want to know."

Not one to back down, he leant forward and closed the gap between them, his eyes raking over her and not so discreetly admiring the view down the front of her top, before meeting her bemused gaze. Somehow, someway he'd ended up sat here with the sexiest, most beautiful and, no doubt, the most intelligent woman in the room. Not only that, he'd been lucky enough to know her for the majority of his adult life. Swirling the remnants of his beer at the bottom of the bottle, he knew there was only one way he could respond.

"There was this girl at Michigan… A first year med student with one hell of a chip on her shoulder." House stopped for a second and gulped down what was left of his drink, all the while gauging her reaction, but there was nothing: she was sporting her best poker face. "I'd see her around campus quite a bit. She was in a couple of classes I audited, but there was this one night when I bumped into her in this really crappy bar… It was cheap, but seriously it was such a dive. Anyway she saw I was sat on my own, so she came and perched on the stool next to mine wearing the tiniest navy skirt and a cute little white top."

"And what happened next?" Cuddy asked, still giving nothing away.

"We drank beer. We talked about people we both knew… One of the professors who'd hit on her. One who used to hit on me: the same guy…" He smiled, as the woman in front of him chuckled. "When she realised her friends had left her, I offered to walk her back to her room…"

"Then what?"

Coyly, House smirked at her.

"A gentleman never tells…"

Biting her lip, Cuddy looked out of the window next to them at a passing car, and ran her finger along the edge of the table.

"It's kinda creepy that you still remember what I was wearing…"

"It's even more _impressive_ seen as you spent just as much time out of your clothes, as in them," her former employee retorted without missing a beat.

After he'd said it, House half expected her to recoil, but she didn't. If anything she seemed to have lessened the distance between them, and staring into her azure blue eyes he could see her pupils were dilated as she looked back at him. Losing his nerve, he broke the visual contact and grabbed one of the shot glasses, gulping down the vodka in one go.

"You know flattery is not going to get you anywhere, House."

Shaking his head in reply, he eyed up yet another shot, but decided against it.

"Who says I'm flattering anyone?... You asked me a question and I gave you a truthful answer."

Not detecting a scrap of levity in his words, Cuddy narrowed her eyes and scrutinized him carefully.

"Seriously?"

"Seriously," House responded evenly. "Why else do you think I had that desk dragged out of storage?... It had sentimental value for me too."

Casting her mind back to the day she'd walked into her office and found it there, she'd known then it was just as much part of their never-ending foreplay, as a kind gift. That night he'd walked her back to her dorm room she'd learnt the difference between the fumbling, awkward trysts she'd had with the boys her own age, and the pleasure she was capable of experiencing with someone who actually knew what they were doing. The desk had been the first available surface when they'd finally made it through the door with their lips locked, and her fingertips dipping into the back of his jeans, as he snaked his hands up her back to undo her bra under her top.

Butterflies danced in the pit of Cuddy's stomach, as she saw House smile at her cheekily. Clearly they were both reliving the same things.

"Sex was never a problem for you and me," she murmured, alternating her gaze between his steely blue, curious eyes and his lips.

"No it wasn't."

* * *

After finishing their drinks they found themselves out in the night air minutes later, House wrapping his jacket around Cuddy's shoulders when he saw her shivering in response to the change of temperature. Setting off back to the house, they'd only walked a couple of paces when he felt the back of her hand nudging against his and wordlessly accepted it, lacing his fingers tightly through hers.

15 minutes later, after leisurely meandering back, House looked on as Cuddy pulled the keys from her bag and opened the front door, her hands shaking slightly as she put the key in the lock. Staying just a little in front of him, his ex-girlfriend slipped off his jacket and hung it up and then toed off her heels and left them at the bottom of the stairs, before walking through her home and turning on the lights. She glided through each room and eventually ended up in the kitchen. Reaching into the cupboard she pulled out a glass and stood in front of the sink, filling it with water, whilst he lingered a couple of feet behind her and hooked his cane on the counter, leaning back against the island.

Watching her drain down the beaker of water, House couldn't help but think about what the guy at the bar had said to him. He'd lied to her about the majority of the conversation. The moment they'd entered the bar, he'd seen the much younger man clock Cuddy and watch them as they found the booth near the window. Sooner or later he'd been expecting him to come over and ask if she was with him, so when he had, he'd told him without hesitation that they were. For one last time he'd wanted her to himself. A little incredulously the jock had looked down at him with a smug grin and shrugged his shoulders, calling him "One lucky dude", and that was exactly how he'd always felt in relation to her. Lucky that she'd noticed him all those years ago; lucky that she'd risked employing him; lucky that she'd walked into his apartment that night and told him she'd loved him; and right now lucky that she could even bear to be in the same room with him after everything he'd done, let alone spend the evening with him. Yet greedily, something at the back of his mind made him want more.

Rinsing out the glass and leaving it on the drainer, Cuddy stretched out her arms and hunched slightly over the counter in front of her, oxygen entering her lungs faster than it usually did.

Something was about to happen and they both knew it.

"This is a really bad idea," House offered meekly, as the beautiful woman in front of him turned round to face him; his own rapid breathing now matching hers.

"I know."

Seconds stretched out like minutes as they eyed each other with a mixture of nervousness, lust and a whole plethora of other emotions. This wouldn't exactly be baggage free fun, but neither one of them were prepared to focus on what had gone before, or indeed what would happen after. For nearly three weeks they'd skirted round each other out of a sense of duty to Wilson and self-preservation, but now a combination of circumstance, alcohol and an aching need to be close to one another, was making those barriers fall away and compelling them to act on how they were feeling. Their world had just shifted so much, and in that moment all they wanted to do was cling onto each other like a raft in the open sea. The atmosphere in the room was thick with tension.

Not being able to bear the inaction any longer, Cuddy practically launched herself at House, standing on her tiptoes and pulling him into a ravenous embrace, which he duly reciprocated; two pairs of hands raking over the body in front of them hungrily. It wasn't enough though. Reluctantly she pulled away and opened her eyes to see his heavy eyelids flicker open and his Adam's apple bob up and down as he gulped, betraying his nerves.

"Not here," she whispered into his ear, letting her hand find his and waiting for him to nod his ascent, before turning and leading him into the living room.

Shifting her eyes quickly from one side of the room to the other, Cuddy decided against both her room and the guest room and span on her heel back round to face him. Again House looked nervous, and she could sense he expected her to end this any second. Letting go of her grasp on him, she crossed her arms over herself and gripped the hem of her jumper, pulling it over her head and dropping it onto the floor at the side of her. In response she saw her ex's jaw drop for a fraction of a second before his gaze moved appreciatively over her, and he stepped forward to re-establish contact. Hesitantly at first he latched his mouth onto hers, deepening the kiss and smoothing the tips of his fingers over the expanse of bare skin on her back.

As their hearts thumped in their chests, they awkwardly scooted their way over to the sofa, House laying her down and eagerly straddling her, in the meantime her hands reaching out to undo his belt. Leaning forward he focused his attention on her neck, alternating between nipping and kissing at the skin there and eliciting the sexy little moans he'd always loved mining from her. Feeling her hand rub against the length of him through his jeans, he focused his attention lower, gently grazing his teeth over her nipple through the lace of her bra, as his hands fumbled with the button on her waistband. Successfully popping it open, House moved his mouth lower still, feathering kisses down Cuddy's stomach, and smiling as she wriggled when he rubbed his beard delicately against her. She'd always been ticklish there, and he prized being one of the few people who was privy to that knowledge.

Slipping his fingers into the sides of her jeans and panties he inched them down, when something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. Raising his head to get a better view, he found himself looking down at a faded, white scar just below her abdomen and froze. Seconds ticked by where he felt paralysed and rooted to the spot like a rabbit in the headlamps, eventually making Cuddy aware of the loss of contact. Opening her eyes to see what was wrong she saw where his line of vision was locked, and instantly sobered up, panic setting in like water flooding into a basement.

"House," she said cautiously, but there was no response. He was still mesmerised. Once more she spoke. "House."

This time he did hear her and it bound him to action; his foot planting on the floor allowing him to swing his bad leg off her, and take two steps backwards, as fear and confusion spread across his features.

_This wasn't happening. He had to be hallucinating._

Without a word he turned and limped as fast as he could, stopping when he found himself in the guest room and at the bottom of the bed where Wilson had died that morning. Feeling the bile rising in the back of his throat, House knew he had to get to the bathroom, only just making it to the toilet in time before the contents of his stomach made a re-appearance. Wiping his mouth, and dropping down to the floor, House rested his head against the cool tiles behind him and closed his eyes. This was way too much to even process.

When he opened his eyes again he saw Cuddy standing in the doorway, her jumper back in place and a glass of water in her hand.

"Can I come in?" she asked quietly, her voice wobbling as she spoke.

Seeing him nod, she padded towards him in her bare feet and handed him the glass, sloping down onto the floor herself and leaning against the bath. Not having a clue what to say, she kept quiet.

"Is he mine?" House probed, finally breaking the awkward silence.

"There's nobody else's he could be."

Taking in her response, he frowned.

"Did you know before... _Before_?"

Straight away Cuddy knew he was referring to the crash, and took a long, deep breath prior to answering.

"No… Julia picked me up after I'd finished giving my statement to the Police… Took me back to hers and I realised I was spotting." She paused for a moment and watched House rub at his leg, before continuing. "I thought maybe there was another tumour we'd missed, so she drove me to Princeton General… I couldn't deal with everybody at PPTH looking at me. I just couldn't… The attending asked if there was a possibility I was pregnant and I said no. I was so convinced I would have known… They did an ultrasound and there was a baby… I was already about 11 weeks."

"But how?... We were careful."

Shifting her arms around herself, Cuddy dropped her eyes to focus on a slight crack in one of the tiles.

"There were a few days where I forgot to fill my script… Rachel was sick, you and I were arguing and the Board were breathing down my neck over a lawsuit… You came round that night and we…" She shifted uncomfortably where she sat, realising how stupid and irresponsible this sounded. The times she'd heard similar excuses from patients were numerous, as were the number of times she'd silently berated them for not taking proper precautions. "I didn't think it would matter… I'm not the most fertile of people. I was older too… I wasn't even sure I could get pregnant."

In response House wearily rubbed his hand over his face, and positioned two of his fingers on either side of the top of his nose. He was tired, confused and now guilt was taunting him.

"You didn't have to leave…"

Instantly Cuddy's head snapped up, and regarded him, he eyes wide open with incredulity.

"_Are you kidding me?_" she snapped, shocking him with her sudden anger.

"No," he eventually offered feebly.

Letting her head fall back, the Dean of Medicine let out an ironic chuckle.

"You know, straight after I was so determined you weren't going to force me out… There were all these people milling around. Firemen, policemen… my neighbours gawping at me and the gaping hole you'd made in my home, and I made myself a promise there and then… I wasn't going to run away…" Feeling a tear fall down her cheek, Cuddy wiped it with the back of her hand. "Then I saw my baby and I knew I had to… It's one thing everybody knowing somebody hurt you as much as you hurt me, it's something else everybody knowing you were carrying his baby too."

Another wave of nausea flowed through House, making him pick up the glass of water and sip at it.

"I don't know what to say."

Cuddy looked him in the eye with her tongue tucked into the corner of her cheek, evidently still angry.

"How about you tell me why you did it?... Had you not punished me enough for breaking up with you?..."

"I… I don't know," he mumbled as an answer.

"Sure!... Of course you don't, House." Thoroughly pissed off, Cuddy started to get to her knees, fully intending to leave him on his own.

Realising what she was doing, her ex knew he had to tell her the truth.

"I wanted to do the right thing… I was going to bring the brush back, and tell you we could go back to being friends."

"And what happened?" she asked, resting back on her ankles.

"I saw you through the window. With your sister, her husband… and this guy…" Pressing his fist into the cold floor, he saw her close her eyes in recognition and went on. "I'd taken so many pills to numb myself, but the pain when I saw you with someone else… Someone who could make you happy… I knew I couldn't see you at work every day and deal with that…"

Cuddy shook her head in disbelief.

"You could have just walked away… You could have killed me or my family… Or the guy, that for your information, I barely knew."

He paused before he answered, and moved his leg slightly to stop it from cramping.

"I know." So many times that scenario had run through his head, and it never failed to make him feel ill. He was many things which he was prepared to admit, but he'd never envisaged being a murderer. If things had turned out that way there was no doubt in his mind that he'd have found a way to end it all. There was no way he could have lived with himself. With tears pricking in the corner of his eyes, House knew it was time. "I am so sorry, Cuddy."

On hearing the words, the tension seemed to fall from her body.

"Did I deserve it?" she asked, small, pear-shaped droplets flowing freely down both cheeks.

"You're the last person who deserved it."

As soon as he uttered the last word, he watched her rest the palms of her hands on the floor, either side of her, and let out the air from her lungs in visible relief.

"Thank you."

Several minutes passed as they sat in a much easier silence, processing what had happened and what they'd discussed. Rarely in either of their lifetimes had they experienced a day, which had so completely shifted the ground under their feet. This was all so huge.

"What's he like?" House inquired, tentatively testing the waters.

"Jacob?"

He nodded.

"Jacob." The word sounded so foreign, and yet who it represented, genetically speaking, couldn't get much closer to him. This was all beyond surreal.

Hesitating for a second, Cuddy got to her feet and offered him a hand to get up.

"Come on."

Taking it, House hauled himself up and followed behind her as she tiredly wandered into the living room, rubbing at a knot in her neck and grabbing an album from a drawer under one of the end tables. Sitting down on the sofa she beckoned him over and handed it to him as perched down next to her. Nervously he opened the cover, and was greeted with a photo of a tiny baby, wearing only a diaper and an obscenely small, knitted hat; tubes entering and exiting his little body, left , right and centre.

"What happened?"

"I bled through most of the pregnancy…," Cuddy started to answer, when he interrupted.

"Fibroids?"

She nodded, and the doctor in him reasoned that it made sense. The years she'd experienced miscarriages and failed to get pregnant in the first place all explained away.

"They were blocking his growth, so we waited until I was 33 weeks to give him the best chance… He had respiratory problems initially, but they treated him with steroids and I took him home on his due date." Flipping over the page for him, she rubbed her thumb over the tiny baby and the little girl who was looking down curiously at him, as she touched the crown of his head gently through the porthole of the incubator; her auntie lifting her up to see him. "The second Rachel saw him, she fell in love with him."

Watching her smile down fondly at them, House looked at Cuddy in awe. She'd been through so much already, and yet she'd spent the last few weeks helping with Wilson, and dealing with his presence with incredible grace and fortitude. In comparison he felt small, insignificant and pathetic.

"How…" His throat dried up, making it difficult to say the words.

"What?" his former girlfriend asked, observing him quizzically.

"How can you sit here and even look at me?... After everything I've done? Everything I remind you of?"

Sitting back a little, the mother of his child sighed and rubbed her thumb along the nail of her index finger, deep in thought.

"Every time I look at Jacob I see you anyway." She lifted her gaze and saw his eyes narrow in puzzlement, and flipped to the end of the book where the photograph of her and the older version of the boy he'd seen a couple of days earlier sat in its plastic sleeve. "Look at him House… As soon as Wilson saw the photo he knew he was yours."

"Wilson knew?"

Cuddy nodded.

"I showed him the photo, and within ten seconds he asked me if he was yours outright… I knew you must have seen it too when I found it on the coffee table…" House looked down at the picture and saw the mirror of his own blue eyes peeping back at him. His jaw dropped as he realised how stupid he'd been. Watching all of this, the woman sat next to him went on. "For someone so intelligent, you can also be the World's biggest idiot."

Cuddy smiled at him and squeezed his arm, relieved herself that this was finally out in the open, before standing up and rubbing her eyes. She had no idea what any of this would lead to, but right now she needed sleep.

"Can I?" the former diagnostician enquired, gesturing with the album in his hand.

"Sure… There's another one in the drawer if you want to look," she offered, pointing in the direction of the little table next to the chair. "I'm going to bed."

"Ok," he replied, seeming a little disappointed.

Not failing to notice his face drop, Cuddy bent down and kissed him on the cheek, before rising back up again.

"Goodnight, House."

Just as she started to move away, she felt his hand grasp at her fingertips and gently pull her back round, finding his eyes burning into hers.

"We made a baby," he whispered, the sentence charged with a mixture of bewilderment and excitement.

Biting her lip, Cuddy couldn't help but smile. He made it sound almost as if they'd baked a cake. So many times she'd imagined telling him, and in every scenario he hadn't taken it this well. He'd sworn blind that he never wanted children of his own, and yet…

"Yeah, we did."

Dropping her hand, he diverted his attention back to the images in the book in front of him, allowing her to get some rest. Backing sleepily away, Cuddy walked out of the room and left him to it, realising he needed some time on his own anyway.

Flicking through the album, House stopped when he saw a picture of Jacob sat on the patio next to the flowerbed, his t-shirt messily untucked from his shorts, gazing down with interest at the fluorescent yellow tennis ball he could barely grasp in his little hand. Resting his head on the palm of his hand, House didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

In less than twenty-four hours he'd lost his best friend and gained a son.


	8. Chapter 8

_A big thank you to everybody who read, reviewed etc the last chapter. You're all awesome!_

_I'm glad people seemed to like the 'big reveal', even though it was blatantly obvious that Jacob was House's. I've always thought that he wanted kids, but specifically with Cuddy for a whole number of reasons. They really missed a huge trick by not going there._

_Some "adult content", folks._

_I hope this works._

_Still not mine._

* * *

Navigating around the photo albums that still laid open on the floor in front of the sofa, Cuddy knelt down and sat back on her heels in front of a sleeping House; his brow knitted as if he was deep in thought, and his arms tucked tightly around himself, as short breaths entered his nose and left his slightly parted mouth, rhythmically. Quietly, for a few moments, she sat holding the coffee she'd made for him, marvelling at how just weeks before she'd thought he was dead and now here he was, as plain as day, sprawled out in her living room. Life really did throw up some surprises, but that had always been the norm where House was concerned. So many times she'd sat in Jacob's room after he'd gone to sleep and watched him exactly like this, wondering if she'd done the right thing by not getting in touch and telling her ex-boyfriend that he'd fathered a child, but time and time again she'd reassured herself that it was the right thing to do. What child deserved to be exposed to someone who didn't want them, and who was capable of such inexplicable violence? However that perfectly logical line of reasoning hadn't stopped the crushing guilt she felt the day Masters walked into her office and told her about his death though.

Suddenly House flipped over onto his back, unfurling his arms and revealing a yellow pill bottle which had been concealed underneath him. Frowning, Cuddy realised she hadn't seen him take anything since the night she'd found him drunk in the kitchen. Clearly he'd made a point of not taking Vicodin in front of her. Deciding to wake him up before his drink went cold, she lightly shook his arm and waited patiently as he mumbled something, turned back onto his side and slowly opened first one eye and then the other.

"I brought you coffee," Cuddy offered with a smile. Returning it, House remained perfectly still and didn't say anything. "What's up?"

"Absolutely nothing," he replied. "I'm just enjoying the view down your top."

Rolling her eyes she scooped his legs off the sofa and plonked herself down next to him, passing him his coffee as he sat up: the movement causing the Vicodin bottle to rattle its way in between the two cushions. Swiftly and nervously, House jammed it into his pocket and sipped at the liquid in the mug. For several minutes neither of them spoke, instead surveying the pictures of _their son_ that were visible in the open albums in front of them, not entirely sure about how to strike up a conversation. For two people who'd known each other for well over twenty years, last night had been like discovering a new room in a building you'd lived in for your whole life, and both of them were scared about what was on the other side of the door. Finally House broke the ice.

"Do you want me to go?" He didn't look at her as he asked the question, preferring to focus on his coffee because he wasn't sure if he could conceal his reaction if the answer was yes.

Picking at some invisible thread on her jog pants, Cuddy appeared to be considering her answer. For so many reasons she should tell him to go, not least of all because of his current legal status. She'd taken such a risk keeping him there when they were caring for Wilson, but it hadn't even been an issue because she knew she couldn't deny him being there with his best friend. Now the decision was firmly in her court. She had to be the one to gauge the risk of getting into trouble by association, with her own wish to keep him there for as long she could. They still had so much to talk about, and completely selfishly she enjoyed the way he made her feel. For two years she'd coasted through her life, entirely defined by her role at work and as a Mother. Without even realising it, the second House had stepped through her front door she felt like she'd woken up from a daze. She couldn't do it. Not yet.

"Julia's not bringing the kids back until the weekend, and I'm not back at work off until next week… I'd just be rattling around the house on my own…"

She'd been careful not to sound like she was desperate, but he sensed the offer was genuine, rather than out of politeness. In quick response House gulped down his coffee and stretched forward to place his mug on the table in front of them, then swung his legs onto her lap and folded his hands behind his head, grinning smugly at her.

"In that case I'm going back to sleep until it's not stupid 'o' clock…"

To further his point he wriggled as if he was trying to get comfortable and closed his eyes, only for Cuddy to give his legs a firm shove and once more sweep them onto the floor.

"Oh no!" she exclaimed wagging her finger. "You can do something to earn your keep."

Begrudgingly House sat up and nudged her gently in the side with his elbow.

"FYI keeping someone chained to the bed for sex is illegal in most states, but I'm willing to bend the rules."

Choosing not to take the bait, Cuddy turned to him and looked him in the eye.

"I need a favour."

Instantly intrigued, House raised one solitary eyebrow at her.

* * *

In the heat of the midday sun both of them tilted their heads to the side in unison, and stared at the wonky structure in front of them with baffled looks on their faces.

"You sure you read the instructions properly?" Cuddy asked, still looking uncertainly at the playhouse they'd spent a good portion of the morning putting together in the corner of her garden.

"There's nothing wrong with my Mandarin…" Continuing House gestured in front of him. "This heap of crap on the other hand…"

"You're not being helpful… Maybe we've missed something."

Dropping her gaze to the packaging on the grass, she looked around for potential missing parts. Meanwhile House could feel himself getting crabbier by the minute. He was too hot and the ache in his leg had been getting increasingly acute for the last half hour.

"We haven't missed anything... Your mad Mom just thought it would be a good idea to send her granddaughter a birthday present that fell off the back of a truck."

Looking equally annoyed, Cuddy pursed her lips and continued to look around her.

"If you're not going to help, you might as well go in," she snapped cooly.

Sensing she was about to boil over, House decided to suck it up and sighed out of submission. She'd been remarkably good to him and this really wasn't going to kill him.

"What do you need me to do?"

Glancing back at him, she looked relieved this wasn't going to turn into a 'thing'.

"Keep looking out here… I'm going to see if it's something on the inside."

The former diagnostician nodded and watched as Cuddy walked up to the small, candy pink, playhouse and got down on her hands and knees to make her way through the little door, affording him a perfect view of her ass clad in denim shorts. Biting his lip, House's mind absently wondered whether or not she was wearing a thong, and if it matched the black bra straps that peaked out from under her navy vest top. All morning he'd struggled to keep his hands off her, flashbacks from the night before when he'd laid her down on the sofa in just her bra and jeans and how she'd felt against him, incessantly plaguing him.

"I know you're ogling my ass," Cuddy shouted back to him, the front of her body in the playhouse, as the rest of her lingered outside.

Realising that he'd been caught, House smirked to himself.

"Where else do you expect me to look?... It's huge!"

Shaking her head to herself, the Dean of Medicine crawled further in and out of his immediate sight, the bright sunshine obscuring his view of her through the windows. Half-heartedly kicking over the box and pieces of plastic packaging, he resolved to follow her in there, taking the few steps and awkwardly getting down on his knees to crawl over the threshold.

"I know Chinese people are small, but you're going to have to stunt Rachel's growth if you expect her to get in and out of here without crawling on her stomach," he grouched, stopping halfway through the door when he saw Cuddy fruitlessly yanking at something in the corner of the 'room'. "What the hell are you doing?"

Turning towards him, she gave him an answer between gritted teeth.

"There's an extra piece of plastic stuck in the joint… I think it's why the roof isn't sitting properly."

Seeing she wasn't getting anywhere with it, House crawled up behind her and removed her hand from the white object that jutted from the wall.

"Let me have a go."

Reaching around her, he placed one hand on it and tugged unsuccessfully, before reaching out with the other hand and gaining a tighter grip, as he felt the back of Cuddy's head pressing into his chest in an attempt to get out of the way as much as possible. With one big yank he pulled and twisted the foreign object out of the gap, almost pulling them both backwards with it, but just managing to maintain his balance. Holding the imperfect rectangle out for them both to see, House rested his chin on her shoulder.

"Never get a woman to do a man's job," he cracked with mock seriousness.

In response Cuddy nodded her head slowly and chuckled.

"Only you would consider pulling a piece of plastic out of a five year old's playhouse, _a_ _man's job._"

Ducking past him, she crawled to the wall and rested her back against it, her legs stretching out in front of her; so House followed suit. Resting his back on the opposing wall, he surveyed his surroundings.

"This is a lot bigger on the inside than it seems on the outside." In reply Cuddy shrugged her shoulders, and blew air onto her hot face. Nudging her leg with his foot, he went on. "It's easy big enough for two people to bump uglies without the neighbours seeing."

Pushing her hair out of her face, Cuddy laughed to herself. He'd been subtly trying it on with her all morning, and the attention he'd been lavishing her with hadn't been entirely unpleasant.

"No way… But you get points for trying."

Not giving up, he tried again.

"No seriously, Cuddy… I could lie down, and sure my feet might just hang out of the door, but you could swing your leg over and…"

"I am not, repeat _not_, going to have sex with you in my _daughter's playhouse_," she interrupted, her expression demonstrating she wasn't going to be moved on the matter.

"But…," he floundered, his argument seeming to melt away before he could formulate it into a coherent sentence. Thinking about it, in the unlikely event they were going to have sex, he wanted it to be in her bed. "Ok, you have a point."

Throwing the piece of plastic out of the open door, his hand dropped to his thigh, which was now throbbing. Watching him, Cuddy frowned and felt guilty. Maybe she'd asked him to do too much.

"Is it bad?"

Without looking up, he continued to massage what was left of his thigh muscle to stop it from cramping.

"I'll live."

There was a brief pause as Cuddy glanced at the outline of the Vicodin bottle in his pocket, and wondered how to broach the subject.

"If you need to take something…"

"_I'm fine!"_ House insisted a little more forcefully than he intended, and straight away regretted it, opting to change the topic after a fleeting and awkward silence. "Does Rachel remember me?"

Shifting to cross her legs, his former girlfriend looked down and rubbed her fingertips over the rough plastic surface that formed the base they were currently sat on. Since he and Wilson had arrived she'd avoided talking about her little girl, and he'd avoided asking.

"I honestly don't know."

"She never mentions me?" he pressed.

"She used to… For a few months whilst we were still living at my sister's in Jersey. Before we all made the move out to California…"

For the umpteenth time since he'd walked back into Cuddy's life, he felt a raw stab of guilt. When he'd driven into her home he hadn't even considered the impact it would've had on the life of the little three year old he'd grown fond of in the time they'd been together. Regardless of whether she was in the building or not when he'd hit it, it must have turned her World upside down.

"And she just stopped?"

Cuddy shook her head.

"I think my sister told her not to talk about you anymore because it upset me."

Leaning his head back, he sighed.

"Did you tell her what happened?... About the crash?"

Seeing his eyes flutter as he said the words, she knew the thought pained him greatly. It pained her too; the image of her daughter's face dropping if she'd been told.

"How could I?... She was too young to understand," Cuddy explained, taking a deep breath before going on. "She liked you way too much for me to do that to her."

Hearing that, House inwardly despised himself. He'd liked her too, and no matter what had happened between her Mom and him, he should have realised that whatever he did affected her too.

"Are you going to tell her when she gets older?"

"I'm not sure yet," she replied honestly.

She genuinely didn't know what she was going to do or say when the topic arose in the future, which it was bound to. It was a case of crossing that bridge when she came to it.

"You should… She needs to know that there are bad people out there," House offered quietly, distress plainly registering on his face.

"You're not a bad person, House… God knows you can be a selfish, dangerous asshole when you think you've been backed into a corner, but there's good in you too…" He sniggered at the suggestion. "_I mean it…_ I don't know anybody else who would have done what you did for Wilson."

The former diagnostician tucked his good leg underneath himself, and hung his head, picking up a blade of grass that one of them had brought in with them.

"And I still managed to screw everything up in the process…"

Cuddy knew he was referring to the Catch 22 situation they found themselves in. Effectively she was sitting across the way from a dead man. A dead man who happened to be the father of her son, and who evidently still cared about her daughter. Desperately she wanted to throw caution to the wind and bring them home to see him, but how could she? They couldn't be expected to keep him a secret, and the more people who knew that he'd faked his own death, the more danger they'd both be in. Every fibre of her being wanted to witness House hold their little boy just once, but her priority had to be the children. She was no use to them if she was locked up too.

"Rachel's still obsessed with pirates…" Immediately his head jerked up, and he regarded Cuddy almost as if he was shocked. "She pretends she's Captain Hook, dresses Jacob up as Peter Pan and makes him walk the plank."

"And nobody's told her how that ends?" House asked, a smirk lifting both corners of his mouth.

"Rachel's version is different."

"So the little guy has to deal with two control freaks then?" With his tongue stuck in his cheek, he anticipated her half-hearted, remonstrative prod with her foot, and moved his leg out of the way.

"He doesn't listen to me anyway… We've been arguing since he learnt to talk," the Dean of Medicine countered, flinging her arms either side of her in exasperation.

"He's definitely mine then?"

Cuddy nodded and smiled to herself. Sometimes it frightened her how alike they were, and not just in terms of looks. He'd definitely inherited his father's stubbornness, curiosity and mischievousness.

"It's not the same with Rachel… It's like he enjoys being bossed around," she said, scratching her head and looking baffled. "But if I tell him off for doing something, he'll find her with his bottom lip hanging out and she'll grab his hand and march him upstairs, looking at me like I'm the one in the wrong… She might dress him up like a girl sometimes, or make him do stupid things, but she's so protective of him… She loves him and he loves her too."

A wave of relief rippled through House. Thankfully his son was never going to experience the aching loneliness he had when he was a child, as a result of being moved around so much by his parents. Even if he didn't fit in at school like he never had, at least he'd have his big sister at home.

"They sound cool."

"They are," Cuddy agreed. "I'm so proud of my babies."

Looking at her in that moment he thought she looked proud too, and rightly so. They sounded like great kids and that was down to her. For years, almost subconsciously, they skirted around the issue of Cuddy's wish to have a baby. Jokingly they'd both offered to let nature take its course between them, but underneath the joviality there was a great deal of seriousness there. They'd just been too frightened to acknowledge it, because of how much it risked the delicate balance between them. Now a complete accident had thrown them into that situation, and in that precise instant House consciously realised that there wasn't a single person on the planet he'd rather have had a child with, even if this set of circumstances was far, far from ideal. He trusted her implicitly to do what was right by their little boy, wherever he ended up, and he'd always be grateful for that peace of mind.

Raising his eyebrows at the beautiful woman in front of him, a cheeky grin spread from his lips to his eyes.

"Sure you don't want to have sex in here?"

In response Cuddy shook her head and smiled at him, despite herself.

"Out!" she urged, the warmth in her voice betraying her mock anger, as her index finger pointed towards the tiny door.

"Ladies first…"

"Nope," she countered, knowing full well what he'd do if she wriggled her way past him. "This time I get to stare at your bony ass."

Getting up onto his knees, House turned towards her with a look of faux indignation.

"This is exploitation!"

"Don't you know it!" she rebuked straight away, leaning forward and slapping him on the backside hard enough for him to let out a genuine yelp. "Get moving!"

Spurred on into action, he bent down and crawled to the entrance, looking back at her just before he exited.

"Just so you know, I am so turned on right now."

* * *

Sitting down on the bench, House ran a cool glass of water along his forehead when he felt something cold and wet drenching the back of his head and shoulders. Instinctively he stood up abruptly to investigate the cause, and was greeted with the sight of Cuddy holding a super soaker and grinning at him triumphantly.

"You looked like you needed to cool down," she offered, a tiny giggle slipping out.

"This isn't exactly fair, is it?"

"It's ok House, I got you one too." Reaching into her back pocket she pulled out a water pistol and threw it in his direction. Catching it he stared down at the pathetic, bright green thing in his hand with derision, making her chuckle. "Size isn't everything."

"You've changed your tune," he muttered under his breath.

In response Cuddy slowly, but deliberately pulled the trigger and made a wet strip all the way down his t-shirt to the crotch of his jeans, causing him to take an awkward jump backwards.

"I think you've had an accident." Her eyes wandered down to the new wet patch on the front of his jeans and lingered there, before working their way back up to meet his. There were no illusions. This was a declaration of war.

"Big mistake, lady… _Big _mistake."

"Really?"

"R_eally_?" he stressed, raising the tiny pistol and aiming it at her.

"Kinda hard to take you seriously when you look like you've wet your pants," she retorted, one eyebrow raised sceptically.

Deciding verbal sparring was no longer the best course of action, House pulled the trigger on his pistol and sent a jet of water flying into her face, looking on with satisfaction as the mirth etched on her features changed to surprise. It was short-lived though as the shock gave way to determination, and she re-aimed her much bigger weapon, sending jets of water at him that soaked through his t-shirt. Attempting to defend himself, he returned the 'shots' in kind, purposefully aiming at her chest and silently reprimanding her for not deciding to wear white this morning. It was, however, pretty useless. Soon his gun was empty and he was forced to put his arms up in temporary surrender, just as a long line of water hit him on his cheek.

"You're giving up already?" Cuddy inquired, not quite knowing whether to be pleased with herself or disappointed.

"Not a chance… Since when have I ever passed up on a chance to make you wet?"

"Nice!" she rejoined, her face screwed up in disgust.

"That was perfectly innocent, Lisa Cuddy." Intentionally he rolled the L of her first name on his tongue like a dissatisfied school teacher, and limped towards the French windows to go back inside. "You're the one with the dirty mind."

"Where are you going?"

"I'm out of ammo, Rambo… Need a refill." He waved his gun at her, and then gestured with it inside. "That's Switzerland, so if you attack me in there all the rich people with off-shore bank accounts will band together and drop the A-bomb on your ass."

Rolling her eyes, she sat down on the edge of the flowerbed.

"Fine," she conceded.

Putting his foot over the step, House meandered to the sink and began to fill his pistol when he suddenly had a better idea. Checking through the window that Cuddy was still preoccupied outside, he quietly reached into the cupboard underneath and pulled out a bucket, setting it under the tap and then filling it almost to the brim. Creeping up to the expanse of wall next to the open windows that led outside, he leant his back against it and held the bucket of water in front of him, finding it impossible to keep the grin from his face.

"Cuddy, I need you a minute…" he hollered.

"What's up?" she shouted back.

"I just need you here a second."

Hearing her sigh and get to her feet, he gauged when she was close-by and span round, dumping the water over the top of her just as she was about to set foot inside. A gasp fell from her lips, at the same time her arms flew out either side of her, the astonishment registering on her face as she looked down at her drenched clothes. Soon lifting her head back up, Cuddy narrowed her eyes and glared at the culprit.

"You have no idea how dead you are."

"Legally or metaphorically?" House cracked, gulping when he realised she'd taken a step towards him, as water dripped down her entire body.

"You should probably make a run for it."

Again she took a step towards him, compelling him to take one backwards.

"If you're planning on tying me up with your stethoscope and spanking me, I'll come willingly."

Stopping in her tracks, Cuddy's face screwed up in revulsion.

"Pervert!"

"Prude!" he spat unconvincingly. They were both on the verge of bursting out laughing.

Taking another step towards him, he watched Cuddy's foot slip out from underneath her and her fall backwards as if it was in slow motion; her arms flapping out to the sides in an attempt to grab onto something. Reacting as fast as he could, House reached out for her, but was too far away and impulsively shut his eyes as he heard her hit the floor, his stomach turning over.

For seconds that stretched out like minutes, he daren't open them.

* * *

Five minutes later Cuddy was sat on the counter where House had scooped her up to after he'd established she hadn't hit her head. As he pressed delicately at her wrist, she winced. Already it looked bruised.

"I'm pretty sure it's not broken. Wiggle your fingers for me," he requested in full doctor-mode. Doing as she was told, she moved her digits with little effort. "We should probably still get it checked out at the hospital."

She shook her head. It hurt like hell, but she knew it was just sprained and bruised rather than broken.

"There's no need… I could do with some ice though."

Side-stepping to the freezer, House opened the door and pulled out the tray of ice cubes, turned around and grabbed a cloth, and then pushed the lumps of ice into it. Tying it into a loose knot, he limped back to the counter and gently jamming it against her arm.

"Sure this is the only place that hurts?" he asked, continuing to concentrate on applying the makeshift ice pack to her wrist.

"Yes," she replied, watching him, watching her. In fact it wasn't, but she wasn't about to tell him she'd landed a little heavily on her ass too. Endeavouring to divert her attention away from the pain, she tucked her finger into the bracelet on his right arm with her other hand and tugged on it lightly. She'd been curious about it since he'd arrived, and had nearly asked him about it on more than one occasion. "What's this all about?"

House glanced up at her briefly, and once more looked back down.

"I made it in prison," he answered quietly, the tension still however evident in his voice.

For a minute or two Cuddy didn't say anything, but thoughts milled around her mind, as the only noise in the room came from the ticking clock on the wall, the barely perceptible sound of the fridge/freezer humming and them breathing.

"What was it like?"

"Small rooms. Bars on the windows… The usual," he answered without missing a beat. His tone instantly gave away that this wasn't something he was keen to talk about.

"I didn't mean like that."

"I know what you meant." Grabbing her other hand he put it on top of the cloth and removed his own, taking a step back and perching on one of the stools behind him. "It's not meant to be a walk in the park."

Cuddy watched him, as he picked at his nails nervously. The day she got the call to say he'd handed himself in her first emotion had been relief, but it hadn't stopped her thinking about how he'd cope in an environment with such rigid rules, and surrounded by people who he was bound to piss off in such close quarters.

"How bad was it?" she pushed, a concerned frown etched on her forehead.

"Pretty bad… A guy with a big mouth, a limp and a stash of Vicodin doesn't exactly just fade into the background… I got a few beatings." He looked up and shrugged, seeing the sorrow on her face and stared back down at his fingers, circling his thumb around each of the fingertips. "Nothing I didn't deserve."

"Nobody deserves that," she said genuinely with a slight shake in her voice.

Glancing up at her on the counter, he looked away and then did a double take. Her lip was wobbling, and the whole of her upper body was shaking. She'd clearly gone into shock after the fall, and her wet clothes which were still dripping weren't helping.

"Have you got any clothes downstairs?" House inquired, getting to his feet.

"Why?"

"You're shaking."

She looked down at herself and seemed surprised to see her arms twitching so violently.

"In there," Cuddy gestured shakily towards the laundry room, air being sucked through her teeth as they chattered.

Without hesitation, he went in and grabbed the first things he could find; a pair of jog pants and a hooded jumper and brought them back, placing them on the counter next to her, and lifted her back down onto the floor in front of him. Without thinking, he began to lift her vest top when he felt her hand on his arm, preventing him. Her blue eyes glared at him in warning.

"This'll be way quicker if I do it," House tried to reassure her, but uncertainty still flitted across her face. "That's not what this is about…. You need to get dry."

Moving her hand off him, she nodded and put her arms up in the air, unable to make eye contact with him as he pulled the damp garment over her head and dropped it onto the floor. Making a point of not looking at her, House reached for the jumper on the side and went to put it on when a shaky hand stopped him.

"My bra's wet," Cuddy murmured weakly.

Seeing how vulnerable she was feeling he checked she couldn't be seen through the window and guided her to face the other way, his hands on her hips. Watching her shoulders shake, he unclasped the fastenings at the back of her realising his own hands were trembling, and gulped deeply as he slipped the straps down her arms, trying to make this seem as clinical as he could. It wasn't though, nor was it sexual. A few weeks ago he couldn't have even imagined her trusting him enough to let him do this: whether or not it was because she was hurt, her barriers were most definitely down for him.

Dropping her bra to the onto the tiles beneath them, he picked up the hooded top and popped her head and arms through the right holes with her back still to him, swiftly mumbling an embarrassed apology when his knuckles accidently grazed against the soft skin at the sides of her breasts as he brought it down. Knowing what was coming next, Cuddy turned back around without having to be asked. Desperate to get the awkwardness out of the way, he popped the button on her shorts and turned his face to the side as he bent down, sliding them down her legs and waiting for her to step out of them. Tugging the pants off the counter and holding them open for her, he felt her hand rest on one of his shoulders and sensed a pair of eyes on him, as he stood up and inched them up to rest above her hips.

Finally House allowed himself to look at her and found her staring straight back at him, her eyes expressing a kind of nervous gratitude. She'd more or less stopped shaking, but looking down at her in her in that moment he couldn't help but notice how small and slight she was in comparison with him. Deep down he'd always known that underneath all of the layers bravado, Cuddy had just as many insecurities as he did, but it was so rare for her to let somebody else see her looking this vulnerable. They'd been intimate in so many ways in the past, but this time it felt so raw. After everything that had happened, they'd fundamentally shifted who they were in each other's eyes. Not moving his eyes from her, he knew wanted to kiss her;- to let her know that she was ok, that she wasn't alone, but instead absently tucked a damp strand of hair behind her ear and turned away to grab the kettle.

"Go sit down on the sofa and I'll bring you some tea and a sandwich."

Turning back around to see her walk listlessly away from him, House realised the best thing to do would be to wait for her to go bed, pack his things and then take off. Nevertheless he was well aware he couldn't physically bring himself to do it. If he'd had any doubts he was still in love with Cuddy before, he didn't now.

* * *

Before Cuddy opened her eyes, she could feel the warmth of House's arm against her face. The last thing she could remember was polishing off a piece of take-out pizza they'd ordered in, and settling down next to him to watch a film. At some point early on she'd obviously dozed off and gravitated towards him. Eventually opening her eyes, she was greeted by over-sized men slinging each other into the ropes and pounding each other into the matt of the ring, and realised a fair amount of time must have passed. Lifting her hand to rub at her eyes, she forgot about the accident she'd had earlier and let out a tiny whimper, as a sharp pain shot up her wrist.

"You should have let me strap that up," House commented above her.

"It's fine… It's just a bit stiff," she replied rotating the joint.

"Speaking of stiff, can I have my arm back please? I can't feel my fingers."

Moving away from him sharply, and sitting upright she turned and saw him stretching out the said arm and rubbing at the bicep with his other hand.

"You should have woken me?"

"It's ok… You were dreaming," the former diagnostician added with a suspicious grin on his face. Cuddy knew she probably had been, but she had no idea what about. "You kept on moaning my name.

"_I did not_!" she exclaimed, watching his face for signs that he was lying. "Did I?"

House looked at her and wiggled his eyes cheekily.

"That's for me to know…"

Sighing, she turned her head back in the direction of the TV, and rubbed at her still tired eyes with the sleeve of her top. In all likelihood he was just messing with her, but it wouldn't stop him teasing her about it as often he could. When they were working together it might have bothered her, but not now. It was just his way of flirting with her, and if she was honest she enjoyed the easiness they were able to share now.

Deciding that she'd leave him to watch the wrestling on his own, she stepped over his crossed legs and gave them a playful kick with the back of her heel.

"I'm going to bed."

Out of the corner of her eye she saw him smirk, and he waited until she was nearly out of the room before he said anything.

"If you want company…"

House left the rest of the sentence up in the air like balloon, fully expecting her to turn him down. Instead Cuddy stopped in the archway that led into the hallway, and let her shoulders drop. If he really wanted to hear her moaning his name, he was going to have to do something about it. Without turning back around she gave him an answer.

"Give me ten minutes."

* * *

After what seemed like the longest ten minutes of his life, House strode up the stairs as fast his leg would allow and stood in the open entrance of her bedroom, watching Cuddy as she sat at her dressing table and awkwardly towel dried her with one hand; the dim glow of the lamp bouncing off the bare skin of her shoulders where the towel that was wrapped around didn't cover. Clearly she hadn't heard him come up.

"Hey," he said quietly, not wanting to startle her.

"Hey," she echoed, dropping the towel in her hand on the floor and standing up to face him.

Looking her up and down, his mind flashed back to all of the times he'd seen her just out of the shower when they'd been together. He'd always loved her like that. She didn't need make up or anything else to make her look sexy or beautiful, and seeing her like this again his confidence faltered. _How could she possibly want him?_

"You sure you want this?"

Sensing his nervousness, Cuddy walked towards him and grabbed his hand, pulling him with her as she walked over to the bed, and stood next to it. Turning back around, she ran the palm of her hand along his chest and looked up into his eyes, which were looking down at hers as if in a daze.

"I want this." To emphasise the point, she untucked her towel and let it drop, hearing him take in a sharp breath as she did so. In response his eyes seemed to drink her now naked body in, not knowing where to look first. Eventually he gulped and shifted his eyeline back up to her face questioningly. With a smile she reassured him, and spoke again. "You can touch too, but first you need to lose the clothes."

As if a bolt of lightning had struck him, he sprang into action and began to pull his t-shirt over his head. In the meantime Cuddy unbuckled his belt and popped the button on his jeans, eventually feeling his hand clumsily envelop hers, whilst they both worked to slide them down his legs. Before he'd even stepped out of them properly she felt him greedily caressing her breast, his lips meeting hers in kiss that took her breath away in its intensity, which she duly reciprocated. There was no mistaking the fact that they both wanted this now.

Feeling the backs of her thighs edge against the bed, Cuddy let herself flop down and brought House with her, her good hand dipping into his shorts and squeezing his ass, making him half-moan, half laugh into her mouth. Breaking away from her, he sat up and brought one of his legs the other side of her hips so he was straddling her, his already half hard cock nudging at her pubic bone through the material of his shorts as he adjusted his position and then ran his hands down her torso, stopping to run his thumbs along the scar he'd first discovered the night before.

"Don't!" she pleaded, her body tensing under his touch.

There was real fear in her eyes as she lay sideways on the bed underneath him, her arousal giving way to shame. Aside from everything that had happened less than twenty four hours before, House realised that the imperfection bothered her, and she obviously thought it'd bother him too. For such a clever woman, she could also be immensely stupid he thought to himself.

"Before we get onto the fact that my scar makes your scar look amateurish, your glossing over the reality that you carried _my baby_… How much of an asshole do you think I am?" Gazing down at her with his brow furrowed, he saw her look as if she was about to say something but decide against it. Splaying his fingers over her abdomen, he went on. "Do you have any idea how hot that makes you to me?"

Cuddy narrowed her eyes as if she found it hard to believe.

"You sleep with girls half my age, who are perfect."

"And they mean _nothing_!" Feeling himself lose his temper, House forced himself to take a deep breath. "I kidded myself that they did, but this… _you_… It's everything."

His words appeared to hit her like a brick wall, forcing the air from her lungs and making her eyes glisten with tears. Reaching up she cupped his cheek with her palm, and searched his steely blue eyes with her own.

"I want you," she whispered almost inaudibly.

Turning his face to kiss her hand, House got off the bed and pulled off his boxers, soon returning to his previous position over her and leaning down to kiss her neck, nudging at her ear playfully until something made him stop.

"This is probably a really bad time to ask if you're on the pill…"

"We're good," she whispered back into his ear. "Now if you don't fuck me pretty soon, I really am going to tie you to the bed and use you for sex."

Smiling into her neck, he groaned.

"You're so sexy when you're dirty."

In response Cuddy reached between them and pumped her hand along the length of him, making him lift his head and close his eyes in ecstasy, before resting it back down between her breasts and kissing the flesh there. Feeling her tease him by rubbing the tip of his cock along her slit, he retaliated by catching one of her nipples between his teeth, and felt her body flex up to meet him as a tiny whimper spilled from her mouth. Realising that he'd embarrass himself if he wasn't inside her soon, House reached between them and shifted her hand away, feeling it move to his back as he situated himself at her entrance and drove his hips forward, plunging inside her and making her gasp. Resting on his elbows so that he was hovering just above her face, he planted a gentle kiss on her forehead, her closed eyelids and her mouth, waiting for her to adjust to the size of him. Moments later her eyes flickered open.

"You ok?" House asked, genuine concern evident on his face.

Cuddy nodded and bit her lip, her dilated pupils and flushed cheeks betraying just how horny she was.

"I'm not going to break."

"You say that, but I'm pretty b…" Before he could finish the sentence he felt her thighs lock around him and drive him deeper inside her, causing him to almost lose control of himself.

"Shut up, House."

Taking the hint, he rested his forehead against hers and found her lips again as his hips worked to find a rhythm that suited them both. Finding one, they moved together in unison until her moans became more urgent and he snaked his fingers back between them, playing with her clit until her toes curled, her body shook and she breathily called out his name; bringing him over the edge with her as she clenched around him.

For long minutes they stayed exactly where they were, House feathering light pecks on her face as their breathing got back to normal.

"I missed you," he finally whispered, running the tip of his nose along the bridge of hers.

"I missed you too," she replied, her hand still raking up and down his back.

Feeling his leg begin to burn, House reluctantly rolled off her and onto his back not having the energy to get up and get under the covers, as Cuddy shuffled back towards him and rested her head on his chest at the same time as hooking her leg possessively over his.

Neither of them capable of analysing what any of this meant, they both fell into a deep sleep within seconds.


	9. Chapter 9

_Somehow I've managed to write over 40,000 words so far, which is about half of a good-sized novel. I can't quite get my head around it, but there you go._

_Thank you for continuing to support my verbosity by reading, and through all your lovely reviews, follows and alerts. Please keep it up: your awesomeness keeps me writing._

_There's "adult content" here because they would and I'm all for realism. Furthermore, if I were to describe the end of this chapter the words 'cliffhanger' and 'awkward' would feature heavily._

_Not mine. I wouldn't have done such a rubbish job in the first place._

* * *

Rubbing her temples Cuddy looked uncertainly at the text she'd spent the last two hours typing, when she heard House lumber down the stairs and call out for her. Indicating she was in the office loud enough for him to hear, moments later he rounded the corner with his familiar gait, dressed just in his boxer shorts and t-shirt from the night before, and absently rubbing his stomach with one hand as his mouth contorted into a loud yawn.

"Hey Bambi," he greeted her, a self-satisfied smile plastered over his face.

"Hi," she offered back, glancing at him briefly, then diverting her attention back to the screen and deleting a sentence. Rarely could he make her blush, but she could feel the blood rising up from her chest and burning in her cheeks.

Knowing the reason for his smugness, her mind cast back to earlier when she'd tried to get out of bed, only to be pulled back in by an insistent pair of hands. Laying her back down he'd kissed and nipped his way down her body until his mouth ended up between her legs, and stayed there until her hand weakly pushed him away for fear of passing out. After she'd got her breath back, once more she swung her legs out of the bed, stood up and attempted to walk, only to find out her legs still felt like jelly. Watching her staggering to the bathroom like a new-born foal as he laid on his front, the sheets barely covering his naked form, House had amusedly mumbled something about her now knowing how he felt before promptly falling back to sleep.

Her thoughts drawn back to the present, Cuddy sensed he'd moved behind her and knew for certain when his hands dropped to the arms of her chair and she felt his breath on the back of her neck. Instantly her heart thumped faster and louder in her chest.

"Thanks for last night," he whispered into her ear and then kissed her neck, taking advantage of the fact she'd opted to tie her hair back that morning. "And for this morning." Again he kissed her, this time a little lower. "And then later this morning… Although technically you should be thanking me for then."

"You're welcome," Cuddy gulped. Involuntarily she could feel herself squirming in her seat, as she watched his hands move from either side of her and edge under the hem of her jumper. Unfathomably, she'd had several mind-blowing orgasms since last night and yet her body was starting to cry out for more. This was hardly new though, she'd never been this attuned and responsive to anybody else's touch. Realising she had to re-focus on the reason she'd been sat in her office for the last couple of hours, the Dean of Medicine knew she had to do something. "House I'm busy."

Breaking his contact from her with his mouth for a second, he quickly resumed planting kisses on the skin that joined her shoulder to her neck, whilst snaking his fingertips up her torso.

"It's fine… You lie back and think of performance reports, and I'll find a really good use for these ladies." To punctuate his point he squeezed her breasts through her bra.

Sighing Cuddy found his hands with her own, and levered them off her, stretching her arms back behind her and letting his hands drop back to his sides.

"I mean it. I need to work."

"Can't I at least watch you?"

"No!" she barked back.

Feeling him break all contact with her and stand upright, she sensed the atmosphere in the room change well before he opened his mouth.

"You're regretting it, aren't you?"

Utterly confused by his question she span around on her chair to face him, and found him leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, looking at her accusingly.

"Regretting what?"

"Sleeping with me," House answered, and then dropped his gaze to the floor in a defeated fashion. "I knew you would."

"No!" she responded, thoroughly exasperated. Nothing could be further from the truth.

"I'm not an idiot Cuddy."

Still he was avoiding looking in her direction, and she could tell how hurt he was underneath the indignation; his insecurity bubbling close to the surface.

"You kind of are… Look at me…" Defiantly he refused to, so she got to her feet and closed the gap between them. Reaching up to run her fingers through his hair, Cuddy inched onto her tiptoes and pulled him into a gentle, lingering, but intense kiss that took them both by surprise; the tension melting away from both of their bodies. Eventually pulling away, she gripped his chin and locked her eyes onto his. "Now do you believe me? I don't regret anything."

A smile creeping across his mouth, House bit his lip.

"Maybe if you did that again with your hand down my shorts…"

Taking a step away from him she rolled her eyes and returned his grin.

"Nice try soldier!..." Cuddy rejoined jovially. "I really need to work. I've got a deadline and if I finish it today we can do something tomorrow."

On mentioning the following day both of their stomachs sank; it'd be their last day together before House had to take off, and they'd tried as hard as they could to push it to the backs of their minds, but the dread seemed to niggle at them no matter what they were doing.

"Like what?"

"I don't know… We could go and see the sights. Maybe head to the beach. Whatever you want… I draw the line at strip joints."

"Killjoy!" House countered with mock seriousness, before dropping the pretence and nodding his head. From her whole demeanour he knew this was important to her, even if it didn't matter to him what they did; as long as she was happy and he got to spend as long as possible with her he'd be fine with anything. "I'd like that."

"Good," she almost whispered, relief fleeting across her features.

"So what am I supposed to do whilst you don your panties over your jeans and solve the World's administrative problems?"

Cuddy shrugged.

"Well, you could do with a shower and change of clothes…"

"Thanks!..." House replied in protest. "And then what?"

"There's a fully functioning TV through there… _Or _you could make yourself really useful and cook for us."

"Ok."

"Ok?" she asked incredulously. Flat out agreeing to a request was not House's M.O.

"It's fine. I don't mind."

"_Seriously?_" She still wasn't buying his sudden altruism when faced with a domestic task. "I thought there'd be more bargaining for sex."

In response House frowned and took a step towards her, reaching around her and cupping her ass in one hand.

"As if we even need that conversation… You are so hot for me anyway, you'd buckle the moment we opened negotiations."

Before she had chance to respond, he'd pinched her backside and kissed her chastely on the cheek, before turning on his heel and heading into the guest room, triumphantly whistling a tune to himself as he did so. Somehow in a few minutes he'd skipped from vulnerability to outright arrogance, and unfortunately for Cuddy he'd ended up turning the tables on her. For a split second she was so close to dropping what she was doing and following him in there, but through sheer willpower resolved not to.

Sitting herself back down in front of her laptop, she heard the water turn on in the next room, and miserably rested her head on her hand as she read back what she'd already written. In vain she was trying not to imagine him naked in the shower a few metres away from her.

* * *

Hearing Cuddy enter the kitchen and sit down on one of the stools, House smirked to himself as he continued to wash salad leaves.

"Couldn't keep away?" he asked without turning around.

"Something like that," she answered, opening the journal she'd been reading and placing the silver bookmark she'd been using to hold the page just in front of her on the counter. "Dinner smells good."

Making his way back to the island, he grabbed a couple of pears from the fruit bowl on the way and placed them down on the chopping board opposite where Cuddy was now sitting.

"I made cheese soufflés. Is that ok?" Amusedly she raised an eyebrow at him in response. "What's wrong with cheese soufflé?"

"Nothing at all, it's just in all the time we were together I think I can count the number of times you cooked for me on one hand... _And_ nearly all of those times involved a microwave. Now you're making me a soufflé?"

House shrugged his shoulders and began peeling one of the pears in front of him.

"I used to have a job... Now the windows in my diary for domestic slavery have freed right up," he cracked, sounding more jovial than he felt. In reality he knew it'd been out of sheer laziness, and a selfish need to feel like he was he was getting one over on her like he did with everyone else. Now he felt stupid. Not only should he have pulled his weight, but, if he was honest with himself, he'd spent the afternoon feeling pretty pleased with himself that he was the one looking after her for a change. Glancing up he caught her looking at him as if she was about to say something, but decide against it, preferring instead to resume reading an article. Seeing the bookmark in front of her, House elected to mention it. "I thought you'd have got rid of that."

"This?... It was yours wasn't it?" Cuddy inquired, picking it up and running her finger over the intricate engraving that decorated the top. House nodded and began to slice the piece of fruit on the board. "When we cleared the house everything just got thrown into boxes and went into storage until I found this place… It was too nice to just get rid of."

"My Dad took me to an auction when I was 12, and said I could bid for something for him. I spotted that and got it for a few dollars… After he died my Mom gave me a box of stuff he'd left for me, and it was in there…" He stopped what he was doing, and rested his hands on the counter. "I thought I'd lost it, but obviously I'd left it at your house before we split up."

"Do you want it back?" she asked, holding it out for him to take.

Looking at it in her outstretched hand, he shook his head. Sure it meant something to him, but he liked the idea of leaving something behind here.

"You keep it." He picked up the knife again and began slicing the piece of fruit into precise segments. "Maybe if Jacob goes to college when he's older then he can have it."

"Thank you," she said sincerely. House glanced up at her and saw a tiny smile reach the corners of her mouth, but knew it was being tempered by something else on her mind. He could feel her eyes on him. "Wilson told me about your Dad… About him not being your biological father."

Picking up the pear House sighed and threw it into the bowl with the rest of the salad leaves.

"Of course he did!... I'm surprised he didn't broadcast with it with a megaphone at the hospital."

"He didn't tell me back then," she countered adamantly. "I've only known for a few days."

"So it was then you two had a good laugh about me being the bastard child of a hippy slut?... Cool! If I'd have known I would have joined in."

His tone was dripping with sarcasm, but underneath that Cuddy knew he was annoyed at the betrayal of one of his confidences, and the fact she'd been made privy to something he hadn't necessarily wanted her to know.

"Firstly, I have no idea why you think we were laughing behind your back, and secondly, don't call your Mom a slut."

In response the former diagnostician looked at her and feigned a laugh.

"Well, _firstly, _who wouldn't find my dear old Mom getting herself knocked up during an orgy in an acid house hilarious?... Oh and _secondly_, seen as you're determined to turn this into a high school debate, regarding my Mom's sluttiness, see my first answer."

Taking in what he'd just said, Cuddy leaned back on her stool and folded her arms disdainfully.

"Are you going to keep on making presumptions, or am I going to be allowed to tell you what actually happened any time soon?" she inquired, lifting her eyebrows and pursing her lips.

"Oh by all means!" he retorted, animatedly resting his elbows on the counter and his head in his hands to make a point. "Enlighten me…"

"He told me when he was begging me to tell you about _our_ son." Instantly she saw the smugness ebb away on his face, to be replaced with shock. "He said I shouldn't let history repeat itself, and he was right… When Jacob's old enough to understand I'm going to tell him about you."

A heavy silence hung in the air between them, as House considered how he was going to respond.

"The abridged version?"

"No," she rejoined, shaking her head. "Everything."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?... There's more to be being someone's Dad than contributing sperm, and who'd want to grow up knowing that they share half of their DNA with someone who's capable of doing what I did to you."

Cuddy looked into his eyes as he spoke and saw the crushing guilt he felt. It was obvious the thought of a child of his growing up with that knowledge made him feel ashamed.

"There's more to you, to us, than that crash. I want him to know about the hundreds of lives you saved when nobody else could too… That we were in love when he was conceived… He needs to know everything so he can make up his own mind about you."

"What if you meet somebody else?" House asked quietly, not looking up as he pushed as pear seed around the chopping board with his index finger.

The Dean of Medicine breathed in and exhaled deeply, feeling the air she blew out make a strand of hair dance against her forehead. She too had thought about that, but in many ways it didn't change anything.

"There's still going to come a time when he looks in the mirror one day and wonders who he looks like… It'll be the same with Rachel… I can't lie to either of them about who they are." She paused as she shifted forward and reached out to rub her fingertips over the back of his hand that rested on the counter. "Besides, you've been such a huge part of my life, I don't want there to be large chunks of it that are off-limits to my kids."

Absently House pulled his hand out from underneath hers and gently wrapped his fingers around her palm, frowning when he saw the large reddish-purple bruise that covered much of the underside of her wrist.

"So many times I told you that you were bad mother, and I couldn't have been any more wrong… They're so lucky to have you…"

Watching tears well up in her eyes, internally he heard himself say, "So was I."

"Thank you," she whispered, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. "You know, I think we've been more honest with each other this past 3 weeks than in all the time we've known each other."

"Probably," he responded, shrugging his shoulders. "We've always been so scared of screwing things up that we screwed things up… Now I guess we've got nothing left to lose."

Seeming as if she was considering what he'd said, Cuddy bit her lip.

"House, what's that smell?"

"I think my soufflés are burning," he replied with a simper.

"Sounds painful."

"It is."

They both grinned at each other as if they had all the time in the world.

"Shall I set the set the table before you burn my house down?" she eventually enquired.

"That would be awesome," he retorted over-enthusiastically. In reality he didn't care about food in that point in time. He'd much rather sit and just look at her, however being burnt to a crisp wasn't exactly appealing either.

Pulling the tray with the ramekins from the oven and placing it on the surface, he turned and watched Cuddy meticulously place the cutlery on the table, finding it hard to believe that in a little over twenty four hours he was going to walk out of the door and never see her again.

* * *

Having previously been content with watching the football, House frowned when Cuddy stood in front of him and blocked his view of the television, initially trying to crane his neck to the side to look past her, until he caught sight of the expression on her face. She had a certain look in her eyes, one that he knew all too well: determination.

"What's up?"

"Nothing," she answered casually. "I'm about to say thank you for dinner."

Grabbing the remote control from the arm of the sofa, she pointed it over her shoulder, switched off the TV, throwing it onto one of the cushions, as she straddled him in one swift motion.

"You could just _say_ thank you," he responded uncertainly.

Appearing to ignore what he'd just said, Cuddy lifted her top over her head to reveal the red bra that had been hiding underneath, and stared him straight in the eye as if she was issuing him a challenge.

"Talking is boring."

Processing what she'd just said, he gulped and stared at her chest, feeling his self-control fray at the edges.

"You're absolutely right. Talking _is_ boring."

Leaning down she laced her fingers through his, and kissed him briefly before he pulled away.

"Did I ever tell you how much I like you on top?"

She raised an eyebrow at him coyly.

"Every single time."

They kissed again for longer this time, their tongues torturously teasing each other as hands began to wander; his down her back until they rested on her ass, and hers increasingly lower down his torso until they were dangerously close to his burgeoning hard-on, which in turn had been fuelled by her grinding her hips against him. Eventually they broke away from one another, catching their breath and gazing into each other's eyes searchingly.

"You're so beautiful," House commented, finally breaking the silence as he watched the last of the day's sunshine strike through the window and highlight the different colours in her hair. In his mind the statement could easily have gone without saying, but looking at her in that moment he'd felt compelled to say it out loud; to make her aware of her own stunning beauty.

Smiling at him warmly and bringing her hand back up to rest on his cheek, Cuddy replied.

"So are you." Instantly his brow furrowed, causing her to respond in the same way. "What?"

"I'd settle for ruggedly handsome, but not beautiful… Beautiful makes me sound girly." Realising the reason for his ire stemmed from embarrassment rather than any real indignation over a certain adjective, Cuddy shuffled off him and got down onto her knees in between his legs. In the past she'd tried to tell him attractive she found him, but he'd always shrugged it off or made a joke out of it. In terms of looks and physical attributes she knew he felt inadequate in comparison with her, especially after the infarction. To her though, nothing could be further from the truth. She loved his body and there was more than way to make him feel good about himself. It was time to change tactics. "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like?" she answered matter-of-factly, undoing the buckle on his belt and popping the button on his jeans.

In response House gulped.

"You don't have to do this."

"I know I don't... I want to." Defiantly she stared back into his concerned eyes, pulled down his zipper and then hooked her fingers into his waistband. "Lift your hips."

As if in a daze he complied with the request silently, looking on in awe as she pulled his jeans off his legs and discarded them at the side of her, before smoothing her palms slowly up the insides of his thighs. Stopping when her left hand rested next to his scar, she moved it on top of it and gently began to massage the flesh there. In response she felt him tense up, so she inched her right hand further up and ran her fingertips along the length of his cock through the material of his shorts.

"Jesus!" he whispered, the word falling from his lips as involuntarily as his hips bucked up to meet her touch.

Observing his reaction, Cuddy knew she wanted to take this further.

"Before we got together did you ever fantasize about me doing this?"

Without even needing to think about his answer, House nodded and alternated his gaze between where her hand was and her face, needing to discern where this was going. This was hardly the first time they'd ever talked about their fantasies, or indeed the first time they'd found themselves in a similar situation, but right now he felt vulnerable.

"You know I did."

"Good… So did I," she replied seriously, wanting to make it plain to him that this wasn't a game. "I used to sit behind my desk at work and imagine doing this."

Forcing her fingers in between the top of his shorts and the skin on his hips, she inched them down to rest on his thighs, and marvelled at the portion of his anatomy that had just bounced free, pointing at her as if offering an open invitation. Cuddy had lost count of the number of times she'd seen him naked, and yet it never failed to impress her. It wasn't just the size or girth of him, or even how he consequently felt when he was inside her, but that generally he easily had the most aesthetically pleasing cock of all the men she'd ever been with. Despite imperfections here and there, on the whole he really was beautifully put together.

"Cuddy…" House pleaded, snapping her out of her musings. Noticing his fingers digging firmly into the sofa either side of him, two things were abundantly clear to her; firstly he was desperate for her to touch him, and secondly he was equally keen for her to keep talking.

"Sometimes you used to piss me off so much that I'd get worked up." Wrapping one hand around his shaft, she snaked the other up his t-shirt and began an agonisingly slow rhythm with both of them, diligently watching his response to the new stimulus as his eyes closed tightly, his head lolled backwards and he bit his lip to stifle a moan. "I used to imagine paging you to come and meet me after the clinic closed… I'd push you into one of the exam rooms and lock the door behind us."

"Then what?" he breathed, his eyes still screwed shut.

"I'd make you drop your pants, get down on my knees and do this…" Illustrating her point, Cuddy ran the tip of her tongue along his shaft, from the base to the very tip. "And then this…" Placing the tip to her lips, she swirled her tongue over it briefly, before moving her head away and once more resuming her ministrations with her hand, ignoring the minor protestations from her wrist which still ached slightly from her fall the day before. In that moment she was too intent on making him feel the way she had earlier that morning, when he sank between her thighs and drew orgasm after orgasm from her until it became too much; amazingly sexy and, above all, wanted.

"Did you ever… at work?" Cuddy saw him look down at her with hooded eyes as he asked the question, the lust evident in them sending a wave of arousal through her own body. She knew exactly what he was referring to.

"Once or twice… It's kind of hard when one of your employees is prone to bursting into your office unannounced." She watched the corners of his mouth turn upwards into a smile at the inference, and continued. "Mostly I'd just wait until I went home, sink into a hot bath and relieve some of the tension there."

"Never the same as the real thing though, was it?"

Smiling at his furtive admission that he'd done more or less the same thing, she couldn't help but cast her mind back to all of the nights she'd laid in bed thinking about him and wondered if he'd been doing the same. Now she had an answer.

"No it wasn't," she replied candidly, barely getting the words out before she bobbed her head down and engulfed the tip of him in her hot, wet mouth, literally knocking the air out of his lungs as her fist continued to pump him at the base. As minutes past she felt his hand caress her cheek and saw the muscles twitch in his thighs as he fought with himself to not violently buck his hips and hurt her in the process, as he got closer. A couple of minutes more and she felt him insistently pushing her head away.

"Jesus Christ, Cuddy!" House growled, gazing down at her with a look that was mid-way between desperate and dangerous. "Please just let me fuck you!"

Before she had chance to answer a third voice forced itself into the conversation.

"What the hell?!... Lisa?"

They'd been so wrapped up in their own little world that they'd failed to notice someone let themselves in, and that same someone walk into the entrance of the room.

Watching Cuddy's jaw drop in horror as she looked over his shoulder to see who it was, House turned to see for himself and in that moment three people were regarding each other with their mouths hung open in shock.

It was Julia.


	10. Chapter 10

_And so the chapter count finally makes it into double figures…_

_A ginormous thank you to everybody who's sticking with this. Your reviews, favourites, alerts etc are like lovely, tasty cookies. _

_I'll be honest, part of me totally gets where Julia is coming from here. If I found a family member in a similar situation I'd probably react in the same way. The other part of me just hates her._

_Beware: angst!_

_They belong to Shore._

* * *

For what seemed like an eternity nobody moved a muscle. They were too glued to their respective spots by the surrealism of the situation they each found themselves in. Finally the clock striking the hour seemed to make Cuddy come to, and as if coming out of a daze she suddenly realised that both her and House were in various states of undress. In one swift movement she grabbed a cushion from the end of the sofa and jammed it over House's front in a tardy attempt to preserve his modesty, then picked up her jumper from the floor next to her and pulled it over her head. Getting to her feet she looked at her sister and then looked past her as if she was looking for someone or something.

"Where are the kids?"

"Oh don't worry Lisa! _Your children_ are being looked after by _my husband_ while you whore yourself out to this asshole," Julia spat back with real venom in her voice.

For House it wasn't the fact that she'd called him out that bothered him. It was the subtle implication that Cuddy was neglecting her children by being here with him. He knew she'd have felt it like a knife twisting into her side, even if the pain of the insult didn't register on her face. Pulling his shorts up his thighs back to sit on his hips, he got to his feet and turned to the woman who felt like an imposter in the house.

"Watch your mouth!" he warned.

Raising her eyebrows in disbelief, Julia took a step back and looked him up and down in disgust, her eyes lingering over the scar on his leg and making him feel incredibly self-conscious.

"Or you'll do what exactly?... Hit me? Because that's what domestic abusers do, right?" Seeing his jaw fall slack, she continued the verbal assault. "No wait! Maybe I should stand right here so you can go and get the car and run me over."

Glancing between them, Cuddy saw House's shoulders and head drop as he shifted his gaze to the floor. She knew what Julia was saying was hitting home, and felt the need to intervene.

"Julia…" she said testily.

"What?" her sister barked back. "You told me this jerk was dead."

"It's complicated."

"Well let's uncomplicate things…" Awkwardly Julia pulled her cell out of her pocket and pressed three numbers. "Either way, he's not meant to come anywhere near you."

"No!" Cuddy exclaimed before she had chance to hit the call button. "Please."

In response Julia regarded her with a look of complete puzzlement.

"Why are you defending him of all people?"

Briefly looking at him with his head still hung down like a schoolboy who'd just been told off, Cuddy knew the reason was because he needed her to. After everything that had happened to them both recently, the last thing they needed was for it to be rounded off by a visit from the Police.

"Just let's talk… Outside. Please."

Narrowing her eyes, Julia let them dart from her sister to House and then to her phone as if she was weighing up her options.

"You've got five minutes before I call the cops," she eventually responded, deliberately making a show of putting her phone back into her pocket.

"Thank you," Cuddy breathed, the relief clearly visible on her face. Turning to House she grabbed his hand and lowered her voice. "I'm going to sort this… Wait here and get dressed." He looked like he was about to say something, but the words failed to materialise and instead blind panic etched itself across his features, as the gravity of the situation finally began to sink in. Feeling his hand grip hers more tightly, she went on. "I promise you this will be ok."

Seeing him manage a weak nod, she took her hand away and turned to follow her sister through the kitchen and outside.

* * *

Sitting down on the bench, Cuddy put her head in her hands and exhaled deeply as her sister stood a couple of feet away with her back to her, looking over the garden in the dusky light that remained of the day.

"This isn't what it looks like," she mumbled through her fingers.

"Really?" Julia replied, folding her arms but still facing away from her sibling. "Because it sure _looked _like you were giving a blow job to the guy who turned your entire life upside down a couple of years ago."

Responding to her words, Cuddy grimaced. It was bad enough that she'd been caught in such an intimate act anyway, but this whole thing was unbelievable.

"You didn't tell me you were coming here?"

"So this is my fault?" Julia asked incredulously, now swinging round to confront her older sister.

"I didn't say that!"

"I came to see how you were… You told me you were looking after Wilson! Was any of that true, or did you just want to palm Rachel and Jacob off onto us so you could screw around with your insane ex?"

"Do you honestly think I could lie about that?" Cuddy asked, genuinely shocked that someone so ostensibly close to her could think she'd do such a thing.

"I don't know, Lisa… I never thought I'd walk into your home one day and find you all over that asshole either but…" She finished her sentence with a shrug.

Cuddy sat up and rested her back against the rungs on the seat, throwing her head back as she ran a hand over her face. There was no easy way to explain what had happened since Wilson and House turned up on her doorstep what seemed like a lifetime ago.

"We've just spent the last few weeks watching our best friend die, and you think I cut myself off from my kids because I wanted to sleep with House?" She paused to gauge her sister's reaction, and was greeted with scepticism. "None of this was planned. It just happened."

"And the whole House-being-dead thing?"

"I thought he was and then he wasn't." The Dean of Medicine sighed. She was far too emotionally exhausted to explain everything here and now. "Does it matter?"

Shifting awkwardly on the spot Julia's expression seemed to soften, and she resolved to sit down next to her sister on the bench.

"I'm not sure I want to know the details… I still don't get how you could have him in the same building as you, let alone this."

Thinking about her answer, Cuddy watched as the row of solar powered lamps flickered on at the bottom of the garden, highlighting the little pink playhouse she and House had put together the day before.

"He's not a bad man, Jules… He gave up his entire life so he could be with Wilson at the end."

"This isn't about Wilson, Lisa," she rejoined, shaking her head. "Have you forgotten what he did to _you_?"

Try as she may to block her memories of what happened after the crash from her mind, she couldn't. The initial shock of what he'd done to her home while she was still in it had soon given way to a debilitating depression that had practically left her bedbound in her sister's home for nearly a week. All of this as she tried to come to terms with the fact that the man whose baby she was carrying hated her enough to pull a stunt that had put her life in danger.

"No, I haven't forgotten," Cuddy said evenly.

"I mean aside from the fact he ruined your home and made you give up your job, has it slipped your mind that he could have killed anyone of us in there?"

Feeling a wave of nausea flow over her in response to her sister's question, Cuddy gulped and took a deep breath. She couldn't reconcile those violent actions with the man who'd tenderly made love to her the night before, and who'd spent the afternoon cooking for her. They seemed like two different people.

"He was drunk and stoned. He had no idea what he was doing…" She faltered over what she was trying to say next. "He's… What House did that night… It's not who he is."

"Are you seriously making excuses for him?... I suppose he's living life of sobriety now then?"

"He would never do anything like that again." Cuddy countered adamantly. She had to believe this.

Grabbing hold of her sister's arm, Julia turned it over and pulled up the sleeve on her jumper revealing the bruise on her wrist.

"And you expect me to believe that? Did you think I wouldn't notice this?"

"That was nothing to do with House," Cuddy insisted, watching her younger sibling regard her with a mixture of concern and mistrust, as she directed her gaze between her face and the purple mark on the back of her arm. "_I fell._"

"I don't believe you Lisa…" She hesitated, before cautiously going on. "If he's forcing you to do things…"

"Of course he's not _forcing_ me to do anything!" she practically screamed at the implication. That was one thing she categorically knew he wasn't capable of doing. Shaking her head, Cuddy sat forward again and looked down at the paving stones under her feet as she rubbed her temples. "This whole conversation is pointless… House was going to leave before you brought the kids back anyway."

"And you think that would be the end of it?... He's a leech! One day he'll turn up again and this time he'll drag them into whatever games he's playing."

"He wouldn't hurt them."

"And you _know_ that?"

"_Yes!_" Cuddy countered emphatically. From the way he'd spoken about Rachel and how he'd reacted when he saw the pictures of Jacob, she knew he'd never intentionally hurt either of them. _Intentionally._ "He knows about Jacob."

"Oh you fucking idiot!" Julia snapped.

"He had a right to know. He's my baby's father…"

"No Lisa, he's just the guy who got you pregnant… Jacob doesn't even know he exists, and hopefully things are going to stay that way."

Gathering the fact that she wasn't getting through to her sister, Cuddy knew she had to move onto the crux of the whole situation.

"Look I need you to level with me… Are you going to call the cops or not, because I will beg you not to if I have to?"

"That depends," Julia eventually answered.

"On what?"

"I'm going to come back tomorrow at lunch with the kids and not only do I want him to be gone, I want you to promise me you won't have any contact with him again…. He's scum, and once you get some perspective on this without him in the picture, you'll realise that and move on with your life."

The thing was Cuddy couldn't imagine him entirely out of her life for good. Even after Masters had told her about his death, a tiny part of her had always expected him to pop up somewhere, no matter how unwelcome she had thought it would be. It didn't help that her son looked so much like him too. Now she knew she'd spend the rest of her life _actively_ looking over her shoulder to see if he was there.

"What if I can't promise to do that?" she tested, waiting with baited breath for an answer.

"Then I'll take the decision out of your hands."

"They could prosecute me." It was true. If the cops picked House up in her home, she could easily be charged with harbouring a criminal. Not only would that jeopardise her job, but it could lead to a custodial sentence, which in turn would obviously separate her from her children. In short, it'd turn her life upside down again, but perhaps even more catastrophically this time.

"I love you Lisa, but if your judgement is so skewed that you'd expose your kids to someone who's capable of being violent then maybe you need that wake-up call."

"You'd honestly do that to me?" Cuddy asked, her eyes wide in bewilderment. She had no idea how Julia could even begin to entertain the idea. "This isn't fair!"

"I really don't want to… I'm worried about you." Seeing tears well up in her sister's eyes, Julia gulped back ones of her own and decided it was time for her to leave. Getting to her feet she bent down to hug Cuddy goodbye, but was pushed away. Taking a step back she looked down at her older sibling, who seemed determined not to meet her gaze. "I'm going to go now."

"You know where the door is."

Taking the hint Julia turned on her heel and walked back into the darkened home, only to be greeted by House who was perched on the back of the sofa in the living room, his jeans now back on and his hands jammed into his pockets. He'd made no attempt to pull the blinds or turn on the light. As soon as he saw her he stood up and blocked her path.

"Are you going to call the cops?"

Instantly seething that that was all he seemed to be concerned with whilst Cuddy had just been grovelling on his behalf, before she knew what she was doing, she felt the back of her hand connect with his face.

"You selfish bastard!" Julia raged, looking on with satisfaction as his hand shot to his mouth and pulled away again to examine the blood on his fingers from his freshly split lip.

"I can't believe you just did that," House mumbled, as he continued to dab at his mouth.

Ignoring his protestations, she knew she was far from finished with him.

"You are the worst thing that ever happened to her. You've made her miserable for years… If you have anything resembling a conscience in there somewhere, you'll walk out of that door and never come back, so that she can finally move on with her life and meet someone who's actually worthy of her." In the dim light she saw his whole demeanour change as he absorbed what she said like it was another punch. "Maybe you'll find someone else to latch onto. Or better still for the rest of humanity, you'll crawl into a hole and die for real this time."

"You finished?" House enquired keeping his tone measured, but in reality not sure how much more of this he could take.

"Leave my sister alone," she warned, before pushing past him and slamming the door behind her on her way out.

Alone again he sank back onto the edge of the sofa, and hung his head. Every single part of him hurt.

* * *

Dropping his packed bag on the sofa, House walked into the kitchen and saw Cuddy sat on the bench outside with her back to him, appearing to be fixated on something at the bottom of the garden. Digging into his pocket he pulled out his Vicodin bottle and poured first two pills, and then another two onto the palm of his hand before dry swallowing them all, taking a deep breath and stepping outside to do what he knew he had to do.

As soon as he saw her face he knew she'd been crying, despite the limited illumination from the lights that spanned around the garden. Her eyes looked red and puffy, and when she briefly turned to look at him, he saw the wet tracks of her tears that had tumbled down her cheeks. With every fibre of his being, all he wanted to do was hold her, but he knew he had to stay strong, to concentrate on saying what he had to say and then putting one foot in front of the other as he walked out of the door and out of her life for good. This was for the best; for him, but especially for her. Her sister had been right, all he'd ever done was bring her down and him walking away would give her the opportunity to start afresh once and for all, maybe with someone who deserved her this time.

"Cuddy," he practically whispered, coughing to clear his throat when he realised his voice sounded hoarse. "I'm gonna go." He stood and watched her continue to stare into the middle distance as if she hadn't heard him. "Thanks… Thank you… For everything."

Still she didn't respond so he turned and began to walk away, his heart feeling like it was breaking when Cuddy finally spoke and stopped him dead in his tracks.

"Is that it?" He could hear the anguish in her voice, as she asked the question.

"I don't know what else to say," he answered honestly, his hand still poised to open the French windows. He really didn't. Nothing seemed enough to describe the gratitude he felt towards her for everything she'd done for him and Wilson, the feelings he had for her, and how much it was killing him to walk out of her life permanently.

"Say you'll spend the night with me."

"It'll just make it harder," he responded, dropping his hand and resting his head against the cool glass in front of him. This was in no way fair; he loved her more now than he ever had, and yet it was imperative that he leave her once and for all. For a second he mused that if this was karma for the all the bad things he'd ever done in his life, then it had well and truly come to bite him on the ass.

When he heard her get up and walk towards him, he knew he should go but he felt frozen to the spot, his body sabotaging what his brain was telling it to do, as he longed for her to touch him again.

"I don't care," Cuddy said softly, reaching out and rubbing her hand down his back. "I'm not letting things end between us like this."

"Why?"

Her hand stopped moving on his back and dropped to his side, clasping his fingers and pulling him around to face her.

"I love you," she asserted as a fresh tear spilled down her cheek and glistened in the moonlight.

Instantly House's mind flashed back to the time he'd been hunched on his bathroom floor with a handful of pills, and she'd walked in and told him the self-same thing. So much had happened since then that it felt like a distant dream. He'd never imagined he'd hear her say it again. Rubbing the tear away with the back of his hand, he enveloped his arms around her and kissed the top of her forehead affectionately.

"You are insane."

"I know."

"No seriously," he persisted. "I am the biggest pain in the ass on the planet."

In response she tilted her head backwards to look him in eye.

"I know who and what you are, and I love you," Cuddy insisted, before settling her head back onto his chest and tightening her grip around him.

For long minutes they just stood there holding one another, relieved that they'd allowed themselves a few extra hours together, neither one of them feeling the need to talk until House finally became concerned when he ran his hands down her arms.

"You're cold."

There was a pregnant pause before she responded.

"Can you go upstairs and run me a bath?"

"Sure," he agreed with a slight frown on his face, as he pulled away.

"There's an email I forgot to send," Cuddy explained. "You go up and I'll be with you in ten minutes."

Seeming to buy her explanation, House nodded and walked inside turning the lights on as he passed through each room.

Waiting until she was sure he'd gone upstairs, she went inside herself and walked stealthily to the office, ignoring her laptop and heading straight for the safe that was tucked in the far corner of the room. Opening it she pulled out the $2000 she had in cash and stuffed it into an envelope she found in the drawer of her desk, sealing it as she wandered quietly back into the living room and slipped it into House's bag, which still lay on the sofa. Looking around her as she tried to figure out what else to include, she spotted the end table and pulled out one of the photo albums, flicking through it until she found the most recent picture of her, Rachel and Jacob all huddled together on the grass outside and beaming at the camera as they collectively said, "cheese!" Removing it from the sleeve she placed it next to the cash and zipped his bag back up, before turning off the light and walking up the stairs.

* * *

Running his fingertips down the length of her spine as she rested her head on his chest, House was consciously trying to commit how she felt on top of him to memory. They'd just made love, slowly and deliberately, neither of them wanting it to end until it inevitably had to when Cuddy's nails dug into his chest and a string of expletives fell from his lips, as she tipped over the edge and took him with her. He wasn't entirely sure he was capable of describing the emotions he was feeling, but it laid somewhere between satisfaction and the sense of foreboding and resignation someone on Death Row felt the day before their execution.

"If I died right now, I'd be happy," he mumbled, more or less thinking out loud.

"Nobody's dying…" Cuddy lifted her head and looked him in the eye as if she was searching for something there. "Promise me you're not going to do something stupid when you leave here."

"I think the chances of me not doing something stupid at some point are fairly slim."

"You know exactly what I mean," she insisted, the upset clearly evident in her voice. "I can just about deal with knowing you're out there somewhere living your life, but not that."

"Ok."

"Promise me."

House knew that in all likelihood if something did happen to him, she probably wouldn't hear about it anyway. He'd purposefully left all forms of identification back in Jersey, so with him already being a dead man in the eyes of the law he'd probably remain a John Doe. Rationally he knew it shouldn't bother him, he'd be dead after all, but it did. A pang of grief for his hypothetical, deceased self stabbed at him. Aside from that, he knew that was real fear plastered all over Cuddy's face as she looked down at him.

"I promise," he said firmly.

Seemingly it was enough to allay her fears, and she settled her head back down to where it was resting before.

"What are you going to do?"

"My best bet is to get hold of a passport and leave the country…"

"And go where?"

"Europe maybe…," he offered. He genuinely didn't know; he had a vague plan to just rock up the airport and pick a flight. "I have no idea."

For a long while neither of them spoke, but House could tell she was thinking about something as she drew tiny circles with her index finger on the patch of his skin directly in front of her nose.

"You've got a chance to start again. It's good…" She paused for a moment and exhaled, tickling the hair on his chest with her breath. "You'll meet new people. Make new friends… Maybe meet someone…" House felt her tense up. "You're still young enough to start a family."

"I don't want any more kids!" he stressed, barely letting her finish her sentence before jumping in. "Oh and I'm such a people person!"

"That doesn't mean you can't find somebody."

"Lying about who you are, which is what I'd have to do, isn't necessarily the best basis for a meaningful relationship, is it?"

"Everybody lies, House."

He sighed heavily and rolled his eyes. It wasn't the first time she'd thrown one of his own maxims in his face.

"What about you?" he asked, intentionally changing the subject.

"What about me?"

"Your sister probably has a line of guys waiting for you to be fixed up with… One of them is bound to be good with kids."

Cuddy cringed at the thought. He was absolutely right about Julia, but aside from the odd disastrous date she'd managed to side-step her sister's matchmaking since the move out West. Despite being siblings their ideas on what made a guy an attractive prospect varied greatly.

"I'm not looking for a father for my kids… No matter what happens, you'll always be Jacob's dad."

House didn't reply for a little while, processing what she'd just said, surprised how much it meant to hear her say that.

"That doesn't mean you have to slap a chastity belt on, and never even look at anybody else," he finally responded.

Rolling off him onto her side, Cuddy placed her hand on his forehead as if she was checking him for a fever.

"Are you feeling well?" she enquired, her eyebrow raised quizzically.

"Aside from the split lip Mike Tyson gave me…" She glanced at the cut on his mouth and frowned, inwardly furious that Julia could lecture her about being around someone violent and then hypocritically lash out at him like that. "Why?"

"You've ruined practically every date I've been on for the past decade, you tried to break Lucas and me up, and the last guy you saw me with drove you to park your car in my dining room… Now you're telling me to get back in the saddle?"

From the way she said it House knew she wasn't being spiteful. Frankly she just looked puzzled.

"I've been an asshole," he murmured, averting his gaze from her and staring guiltily at the ceiling.

"Well I'm not going to deny that... Although you did save me from some really bad dates to be honest," she jibed, placing a reassuring hand on his chest and trying to lighten the mood. He didn't bite though, instead continuing to look fixedly above him. "I've never been in love with anybody apart from you."

"Bullshit!" he spat and instantly turned his head to regard her. "You don't have to make me feel better about being the World's biggest jerk."

"It's true… Kinda pathetic for a fully grown woman, huh?"

Grinning at her in response, he smoothed the backs of his fingers down her arm and snuck a brief peek at her breasts that were just visible under the covers, nearly losing his train of thought.

"It's actually adorable, Cuddy," he said in a sickly sweet voice, moving his hand under the covers and squeezing her ass playfully. "You mean I ruined you for other men with a combination of my wit, charm and my _humongous_ penis?"

She groaned, and kicked his shin with her foot with no real force, leaving her calf to rest on his.

"You know I'd have to kill you if you weren't already leaving the country, right?"

House sighed exaggeratedly and looked at her with a mock serious expression.

"One minute you're begging me not to do anything stupid, and then the next you're issuing death threats. Now there's the woman I know and love!" He hadn't necessarily intended to drop the 'L-word' in so casually to the conversation, but now he had he didn't regret it. He meant it too. He did love her and he was happy for her to know it too. For once he didn't feel embarrassed or vulnerable bringing up how he felt about someone. It felt right.

"You loved Stacy too once," she pressed. "There's nothing stopping you have a completely fresh start with someone else."

"You're right… I did love Stacy, but even she knew there was something going on with you and me, long before either of us had a clue."

Cuddy's brow furrowed in confusion.

"What do you mean?"

"When things got bad after the infarction, I spent as much time as I could at work… She couldn't understand why I'd asked for you to be my attending when your specialism is endocrinology either…" House paused as he thought back to the pain of the fights the two of them had; him pushing Stacy away constantly out of a misplaced sense of betrayal, and her incessantly putting two and two together and coming up with five. "She accused me of having an affair with you more than once."

"We were just friends."

"No we weren't," the former diagnostician disagreed, shaking his head. "We've always been in some sort of a relationship even if we were too moronic to see it ourselves." He shifted a little closer to Cuddy in the bed, and greedily took in the sight of her next to him. "There are two people I can honestly say I've really trusted in my life, and now that Wilson's gone there's just you."

In response she brought her hand up to his cheek, and ran her thumb along his lip, wincing when he did as she touched the spot that was injured.

"I trust you too."

"Why?" he asked incredulously. "All I've ever done is hurt you."

"That's not true…" House looked at her sceptically, as if he was challenging her to come up with examples, so she did. "If it hadn't been for you kicking my ass the night I lost Joy, I'm not sure I would have had the strength to go on and adopt Rachel."

"That was some ass-kicking…" he joked mirthfully, casting both their minds back to the night he'd turned up at her home, the argument that followed and then the kiss that had come out of nowhere. They'd been so close to ending up in bed that night that Cuddy couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if they had. Would they have decided to broach a relationship then, or would they have just brushed it off as a mistake? Would she have even gone on to adopt Rachel if they'd gotten together after that, or would they have eventually tried for a baby of their own? It felt like falling down a rabbit hole just thinking about it. Either way, she couldn't imagine her life without her daughter now, and was grateful he'd been a gentleman and excused himself before things went further.

"You did the same thing when I was too much of a coward to stop my Mom from going to Princeton General and killing herself in the process… I meant it when I told you that you made me a better person." She stopped to think about the night she'd sleepily opened the front door, and found him and Wilson there. "It wasn't until I saw you again that I realised I've been sleepwalking for the past couple of years… Nobody challenges me like you do… Nobody else has the balls, or cares enough to really want to try."

Not for the first time, looking at her in that moment, House found himself hating the rest of humanity. Even if he'd spent the majority of his adult life making an art form of pissing her off, he always knew part of the reason he'd done it was to see the spark light up in her eyes when they were in the middle of an argument. Innately she may be somewhat of a control freak, but she needed that buzz of being able to engage with someone toe to toe in the same way he did. It irritated him that none of the other guys she'd dated could see that. Generally, he reasoned, his hypothesis about people being idiots was true.

"I wish I'd never screwed us up," he admitted in virtually a whisper.

"We both screwed us up… I should never have dumped you over one minor relapse, and long before that I should never have told you I didn't want you to change." She took a deep breath and frowned, frustration showing on her features. "For us to have even had a chance at working, we both would have had to cut the deflections, the lies, the selfish attempts at self-preservation and all of the other crap, and actually have had proper conversations… Like we are now."

A wry smile spread across House's lips.

"And the Academy Award for irony goes to…" Cuddy smiled tiredly at the joke, causing him to glance past her at the alarm clock on the bed stand. It was gone midnight. "It's late. The kids are back tomorrow and you seriously need your beauty sleep."

Lazily she turned onto her front, apparently amused as her eyes began to droop of their own accord.

"That's not what you said earlier… You are going to say bye before you go?" she asked, relaxing into the feel of his hand rubbing between her shoulder blades soothingly.

"Yeah."

"I love you," she managed just as her eyes flickered shut.

Pushing a strand of hair behind her ear, House watched her as her breathing became slower and more audible, and placed a gentle kiss on her shoulder that made her adjust her head closer to him on her pillow.

"I love you too."

* * *

Before she'd even opened her eyes, Cuddy sensed he'd gone. Putting on her gown, she listlessly wandered down in the stairs and called out his name, the daylight hurting her eyes as she did so, but there was no reply.

On the verge of tears, she slumped onto the sofa and pressed her thumb and index finger against the top of her nose when something caught her eye. There on the coffee table was the still unopened envelope of cash she'd placed into his bag the night before, alongside a small rectangular piece of paper that appeared to be written on. Picking it up she turned it over and realised it was the picture of her, Rachel and Jacob she'd slipped amongst his belongings, and flipped it back to instantly recognise his handwriting:

_I don't want a photo. I want the real thing._

Straight away Cuddy knew House had handed himself in.


	11. Chapter 11

_First of all I just wanted to say how overwhelmed I was by all of the responses to the last chapter. It was obviously the big tipping point in the story, and I'm glad everybody seemed to like how things panned out, even if it was heavy on the angst and Julia's (understandable, but nevertheless annoying) meddling. Even though we're getting closer to the end now, it's still great to know that people are not only reading, but letting me know what they think. Thank you. _

_I just wanted to pick up on a really valid point that someone made about Cuddy not asking House to hand himself in, or getting him a lawyer. I kind of wish I'd made it more explicit now, but I do think she was on the verge of suggesting that when she asked him what prison was like a couple of chapters back, and him admitting that he'd had a hard time was what put her off. I also think it's worth reiterating here that not only did House evade arrest, but he also switched dental records and consequently had someone buried in his place, which are obviously serious offences and would boost the amount of time he would spend in prison. I think I've found I've found a fitting way to get around that, but one where someone doesn't just wave a magic wand and House does actually have to face 'some' of the consequences of his actions._

_Not sure what you guys are going to think of this one. Trust me though, it's not over yet._

_The show and the characters don't belong to me._

* * *

As soon as House spotted her filing in with everybody else he got up from his chair nervously, and waited for Cuddy to look in his direction. In those brief few seconds where she turned her head from side to side and scanned the large room with its rows of tables and chairs and other prisoners waiting for their visitors, it occurred to him just how incongruous she looked in these surroundings. Instantly he felt guilty and ashamed for being the reason she was there. Finally he saw her clock him and reciprocated when she smiled at him with genuine warmth. For two long months he'd held off on this moment, and now here she was walking along the makeshift aisle towards him, looking a little tired, but her usual elegant and beautiful self.

When Cuddy got a foot away from him she stopped, and he saw her breath catch in the back of her throat as she looked at him; clearly she was just as nervous about this as he was.

"Hi," she offered quietly, pressing her fingers down onto the table next to them and looking around at the various couples, family members and friends embracing, her gaze settling on a heavily tattooed inmate who was passionately sticking his tongue down his wife or girlfriend's throat oblivious to the people milling around them, as their two small sons sat on the plastic chairs and were taking it in turns to hit each other on the arm.

"Hi," House replied, drawing her attention back to him.

For an awkward few seconds they just stood and regarded each other, neither one sure who should make the first move until she decided to take the initiative and close the gap between them, her arms encircling his torso and pulling him into a tight hug that literally forced the air from his lungs.

"You fucking idiot," she whispered into his chest just loud enough for him to hear amongst the chatter and scraping of furniture on the waxed floor.

Smiling to himself at the reprimand, House chastely kissed the top of her forehead and invited her to sit down, which she duly did, and he followed suit using the opportunity to take her in.

"You look great."

"Thanks. So do you," Cuddy responded. She hadn't known what to expect when she saw him, but he seemed to be ok. "Aside from the whole double denim thing. That's not a good look for a man your age."

Exaggeratedly he tutted and rolled his eyes.

"Nice! Let's all pick on the outfit choices of the _old_, incarcerated cripple."

"You've been critiquing what I wear for years. This is payback, House…"

"Touché," he responded, smirking and realising how much he'd missed having a proper conversation with someone whose IQ didn't make them borderline retarded. "How was the flight?"

"Ok. I took a red eye and slept for most of it… I must look a mess."

"Trust me you don't," he said with an intensity that made Cuddy shift awkwardly in her seat and look down at the table. Soon though, her embarrassment turned into a mixture of concern and curiosity, as she caught sight of his bandaged hand for the first time.

"What happened?"

"I punched a wall," he answered matter-of-factly, examining the strapping and tentatively trying to bend his fingers with a slight grimace. "Broke a couple of knuckles."

"Why would you do that?" she inquired incredulously.

"They have a drugs programme here. I was detoxing… The wall was pissing me off so I punched it. Hard. More than once." House looked up and saw that her mouth was visibly hanging open as she looked at him. "What?"

"You're clean?"

"Uh-huh. For the past 4 weeks, 2 days and…" He stopped mid-sentence to look up at the clock on the wall. "And 3 hours… It's part of the reason I didn't ask you to visit until now."

The other part was that he knew he needed the time to adjust to prison again, and come to terms with the fact this was going to be his home for the duration of his 20 month sentence. Letting himself see her again too soon would have been too much to bear.

"That's… That's amazing!" She stuttered, genuinely blown away by what she'd just heard.

House shrugged.

"I figured it's one less reason to have the crap beaten out of me. Not sharing your candy with the bigger boys is not an option here." Processing what he was saying Cuddy looked at him horrified. "I'm fine," he felt the need to reassure her. "Nobody's touched me. I've been keeping my head down and my mouth shut for a change."

"Promise me you'll keep on doing that."

Despite himself, he snorted in response.

"You're basically asking me to promise not to get beaten up. Any idea how stupid that sounds?"

"House…" she pressed warningly. She'd known what he was like for far too long to leave it at that.

"Fine! I promise to do my best not to come into contact with anybody's fist, knee, elbow or forehead. Ok?"

She nodded, but inwardly it frightened her that he was constantly at threat any one of the other inmates. Sure there were guards to protect him, but she'd heard stories about these places just like everybody else. Watching him adjust the position of his prison-issue cane which was hanging on the table, an awkward silence fell between them as they both dipped into other people's conversations for a minute or two.

"Foreman rang and invited me to a memorial service they had for Wilson at PPTH," Cuddy finally ventured, consciously changing the subject. "It was about a month ago."

"How was it?"

"Good… I mean it was strange for me to be back there…" She paused as she saw House guiltily look down at his hands, before continuing. "The service was great though. The place was packed; family, former patients and the majority of the medical staff were all there."

"Well I hear this kind of thing happens if you actually take the time to be nice to people." Watching a guard walk past them, he couldn't help but think about the paltry turnout to his own funeral and surmise that difference in numbers was absolutely warranted.

"I met his brother. Danny."

House looked at her quizzically.

"Danny as in 'locked up in a looney bin Danny'?"

Cuddy sighed and shook her head at the insensitivity of his words.

"He's not anymore. He was discharged a little while ago… We had a fairly long chat, and he seems pretty together now… He said Wilson talked about you a lot when he visited him and he'd like to meet you. I haven't got it with me, but if you want I can get his address and pass it on to you?"

He paused to think about it for a second. Wilson had offered to let him meet his brother the night they'd driven to New York when he'd first been admitted, however that had never actually materialised. He had to admit he was more than a little curious. Sure he wasn't keen on people he knew seeing him in here, but he didn't exactly have much to lose by letting Danny come and visit him. If he didn't like the guy then he just wouldn't have to see him again, it was as simple as that.

"Ok."

"Ok," she repeated, smiling at him. "Foreman showed me around the hospital by the way… What the hell did he do to my office?!"

House chuckled. More than once he'd found himself wondering what she'd have made of it when he was still working there. There was no way she'd have allowed the revamp of his office and the DDX room either. When she was his boss, on the whole, she knew when to put her foot down and when to give him the leeway that he needed. On the other hand, Foreman was far too keen to exert his authority at all the wrong times and then let him get away with things that he shouldn't. In hindsight, even if things had turned out differently with Wilson, he knew that his job at PPTH would have gone the way that all the other ones had before Cuddy had taken him on sooner rather than later.

"He got a designer in so he could have a workspace that reflects his personality, which unfortunately for him is boring and depressing."

"Well let's put it this way, I've frequented more cheerful mortuaries… I have no idea how he gets donors to give him any money if he takes them in there."

"He sleeps with them," House chirped in without missing a beat. "The men _and_ the women. He let me feel his ass for ten dollars once." Smirking, Cuddy raised an eyebrow at him in. "It's ok. Your ass is way firmer _and _I didn't have to pay for the pleasure."

"They have an infirmary here, right?" she inquired with mock serious, warning tone, her tongue tucking into the side of her cheek.

"They also have lots of pairs of handcuffs and batons… You'd be in your element."

Cuddy sighed and wondered how rich she'd be if she had a dollar for every time he'd made a bondage joke at her expense, resolving to steer the direction of the conversation to something more suitable for their surroundings.

"Chase took over your department."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. He's doing a good job too… And apparently he does his paperwork."

House leant forward and rested his head on his good hand. He and Chase had had several ups and downs over the years, but all in all he felt like out of all of his research fellows, he was the one who'd grown and matured the most under his supervision. Him taking over the reins seemed fitting.

"He's a good choice," he admitted. "At least Foreman got one thing right."

"Walking around after all this time felt really odd. I spent years pouring everything into that place… Now without you there, without Wilson, it just seemed strange. Like I didn't belong there."

"It changed after you left," he confided, noting the curious the look on her face. He hadn't even admitted to Wilson how diminished the hospital felt after he'd returned from his first spate in prison. Usually he'd sniff at people who said that building had a certain aura, but it had felt different in her absence. The energy had been sucked out. "If it hadn't been for Wilson, I probably never would have gone back."

"It's a good job you did," she said quietly, leaving him not quite sure if she was just referring to him consequently being able to look after his best friend.

"You do know what he did?"

The question was asked cagily for obvious reasons. Cuddy nodded and left it at that, casting her mind back to the day she'd switched her the radio on in her car, and heard them talking about a doctor who'd handed himself in in LA, four and a half months after his terminally ill oncologist friend had switched his dental records with those of the deceased heroin addict whose body had actually been found at the scene of a fire, and then organised his funeral; subsequently confessing what he'd done to his lawyer on his death bed.

Of course she knew this wasn't really the case. Wilson had told her what had really happened a few days before he died: about House being in a bad way over being sent back to prison and the genuine fear that he was suicidal, only for him and Foreman to turn up and see him in the burning building just as everything came down, and then ultimately his best friend texting him during his own funeral.

What she didn't know though was the extent to which Wilson had plotted things down to the last detail. From the fact he'd stressed in his confession that she didn't know anything, to him feigning that faking House's death was his idea because he didn't feel his friend was mentally capable of going back to prison and that he'd been the one to encourage him to flee arrest on the night of the fire when he'd turned up at his home. Just before his death Wilson had also given House the number of the lawyer and told him to ring him before he said anything to the cops if/when he was caught or handed himself in, a request which luckily he'd respected. As a result he'd shaved at least three years off his friend's sentence.

"That's not all he did. I got a visit from his lawyer a couple of weeks ago," Cuddy eventually responded, purposefully keeping her voice low.

"Everything ok?" He was concerned there'd been some ramifications from the case.

"Yeah," she nodded. "Wilson split everything in his will between Danny and me."

"The boy wonder was full of surprises, huh?..." He paused for a second and smiled at her. "He appreciated what you did for him. You deserve it."

The woman across the table sighed in exasperation. For a man who'd spent a lot of his life studying human behaviour as a hobby, sometimes he couldn't see the wood for the trees.

"It wasn't really for me you moron!" Checking herself she lowered her tone again and continued. "The money's for you… He wanted me to look after it for you." She'd known that even before she opened Wilson's letter, which the lawyer had held onto for her. "It's a lot of money, House."

"How much?" he asked out of interest.

"After the sale of the condo, his shares and the settlement of his life insurance we're talking the best part of a million dollars."

"Jesus!" he croaked, genuinely shocked.

"When you get out of here it's waiting for you. It's more than enough to help you get on your feet again." She paused seeing that he didn't exactly seem over the moon for someone who'd just been told that amount of money had been left to them. Clearly everything Wilson had done for him wasn't sitting well with him anyway, and this further act of benevolence was almost too much for someone who'd experienced so much hardship in his life. "You might never have given him a minute's peace, but he loved you like family, and you being there at the end was the difference between him having a miserable death and one where he had some dignity, beside someone he trusted… All of this is him saying thank you."

House mulled over what she said and offered her a weak smile. He guessed she was right, but he'd have readily taken a much longer sentence and lived in poverty if it meant he could bring Wilson back. There was only one thing he wouldn't have changed about all of this.

"Finding a way to get you and me in the same room again was more than enough," he stated, his eyes demonstrating his sincerity, as he saw a whole gamut of emotions flicker across Cuddy's face and she shifted awkwardly in her chair. He wasn't sure if it was just down to her not being comfortable with the environment, but something wasn't right. "How are the kids?"

"The kids are great," she responded, her face rapidly lighting up. "Rachel lost 2 of her baby teeth, and Jacob won't shut up about his birthday party next week."

"It's his birthday next week?" It seemed absurd to him that he didn't know when his own son's birthday was.

"Yeah… Our boy's going to be two next Friday."

House fidgeted for a second, completely uncertain of what was expected of him. To say that this was new territory for him was an understatement.

"If there's anything he wants, like a big present, just use the money."

Cuddy chuckled to herself.

"House, he's a toddler. All he wants are toys, candy and someone to tickle him… We can leave off buying him a car, at least until his feet can actually reach the gas."

"I want to be involved in his life." He'd had so much time to think things through and that was something he'd remained certain of since the morning he'd walked out of her home. Knowing he had a child and not having input into his life didn't even feel like an option. "I know I'm not much use in here, but I still want to help."

Reaching out over the table, Cuddy squeezed his hand reassuringly.

"And I want that too… I haven't said anything to him yet, to Rachel either, because I wanted to talk to you first… I asked about bringing him here and…"

"No!" he interjected firmly. "I don't care what you tell him about where I am for now, but there's no way I'm letting you bring him here."

Even the thought of it bothered him. He hated thinking about her being subjected to the security checks on the way in to see him, let alone a little two year old meeting him for the first time in a building that was surrounded by high fences and barbed wire. First impressions counted and he didn't want his son's first memory of him to be as someone who had to be locked away from the rest of society.

"You've still got another eighteen months left in here," Cuddy protested.

"And he's survived the first two years of his life pretty well without seeing me."

"But…"

Before she could finish her sentence he jumped in again.

"No!" the former diagnostician maintained, and then pointed to the family with the two boys who they'd both watched when she first came in. "Do you really want that?"

She looked over at the couple who seemed oblivious to their children, one of whom was kicking his feet aimlessly up in the air, as the other leaned his head over the back of the chair and appeared to be gawping at the ceiling with his mouth hung open. Thinking about it, she wasn't sure if it was the fact that they seemed so bored, or that they were so accustomed to visiting their father under these circumstances that they were capable of being so fed up, that bothered her more.

"No," she eventually admitted.

"I'll write a letter for you to read to him… If that's ok?"

"I'd like that," Cuddy said warmly, and then pulled back on her chair taking a deep breath that seemed to change her whole demeanour. "We need to talk about what happens when you get out of here. There have to be ground rules if this is going to work."

"We've got a year and a half to talk about that. Right now I want to talk about you." He leant towards her, and dropped his voice to near a whisper. "I've been thinking about you a lot… Specifically you naked to be completely accurate."

"House!"

"Oh come on!" he pleaded. "It's been two months since I last saw you… _Two months_!"

"There's stuff that needs to be said now."

"What? You want to give me the whole 'not getting him drunk or taking him to strip joints until he's at least 12' pep talk now?"

"I'm serious…"

From the look on her face he could tell she was too. There was something she needed to get off her chest and he was best off letting her do so.

"Fine. Shoot!"

"I was going to say something about the Vicodin, but that's not even an issue now…" Absently she rubbed her temple, as she appeared to be searching for a way to put what else she had to say. He knew she'd probably made of list of the things she was going to put her foot down over, and his pre-emptive strike seemed to have thrown her. "When you get out of here I'll help you look for a job, but we can't ever work together again… We're both incapable of keeping our personal and professional lives separate."

"You honestly think I'd get my medical license back now?"

"I don't know," she answered. "You could try."

House shook his head.

"Nope…"

"Then what are you going to do?"

"The thing that I was going to do before Foreman dragged me back to PPTH kicking and screaming… I want to go back to college. Get another PhD… It's time for a change."

She paused for a moment, as if she was considering the information he'd just given her.

"Ok. If that's what you want to do, we can work with that."

"Mazel tov!" he re-joined, light-heartedly mocking her need to plan ahead like this. "What's next on the agenda?"

Visibly he saw her steel herself for what she was about to say, and straight away his jovial mood began to melt away. His instinct had been right about there being something wrong.

"I know you use hookers to massage your thigh and… and whatever else," she said quietly, fumbling through her words. "But under no circumstances will you let Jacob either come into contact with them, or even mention them to him. I don't want him growing up thinking that's normal behaviour."

House observed the resolve on her features with complete bafflement.

"Like that's even going to be a problem if we're together." As soon as the statement left his mouth, he saw her look away and he knew what all of this was about. His heart began thumping in his chest. "Cuddy?"

As her gaze met his again, he saw her eyes had glassed over with the start of tears beginning to form in the corners.

"You and me… We can't."

"Why?" he pressed.

"Because it wouldn't work."

"Why?"

"You can't just keep asking why!" Cuddy exclaimed, her frustration plain to see.

"I can and I will," he countered adamantly. "Why can't we work? Things are different this time."

"I know they are, but there's even more at stake now."

House leaned back in his chair and gulped. He couldn't deny that she was right, but what she was saying now didn't seem to tally with the conversations they'd had back at the house. Something had to have altered.

"We talked about where we went wrong… Jesus! Cuddy we talked for hours and hours. We know what we have to do to make things better… Someone or something has to have changed your mind."

"I'm seeing someone," she blurted out.

For seconds that seemed to stretch out like hours House was literally rendered speechless, as her words hit him like a punch in the gut. His head was swimming and he could feel the sick rising from the pit of his stomach. He'd laid in his bunk every night since he'd come here thinking she was his, but now somebody else had her. Without even realising it his hand gripped tightly onto the table leg until his knuckles turned white. He should have recognised that was too good to be true.

"Well that didn't take you long," he spat sarcastically, intentionally trying to cover the raw hurt he was feeling.

"What?" Cuddy asked, her brow furrowing into a confused expression until she realised what he meant. "I'm seeing a therapist, House. I'm not with anybody." With the clarification she saw him exhale, and the relief become palpable in his posture. "Julia recommended her to me."

"I should have known your sister would pop up in this somewhere… She's been dripping the poison in your ear for the last two months and you've actually listened to her."

"If that was the case I wouldn't even be here!" she fumed, her voice loud enough to attract the attention of the inmates and their visitors either side of them. Taking a breath she began again more quietly this time. "Julia thinks I'm insane coming anywhere near you, let alone giving you access to Jacob."

"Fine," he conceded. "But what about what happened between us?... I know you never expected me to hand myself in, but all of that meant something… At least it did to me."

If he'd have slapped her in the face he couldn't have shocked or wounded her more.

"Of course it meant something!" she insisted.

House's attention dropped to the table, and a small gash in the wood, which he ran his finger along.

"You told me you loved me," he muttered.

"I did… I do," Cuddy stammered in response, her fingers searching out his and gently ghosting over his bandaging. "I'm always going to care about you, and not just because we've got a son."

Looking like a puppy who'd been kicked, he lifted his head and his eyes were pleading with her long before he opened her mouth, reflecting the pain she was feeling herself.

"Then why?"

"Because when we're not living in a bubble like we were for those few days, when reality starts niggling away at us, we're toxic together."

"It wasn't all bad," he objected.

"No it wasn't," she agreed. "When it was good it was amazing, but when it was bad it was like a warzone…. Then it got even worse after we split up. I can't put the kids in the middle of that."

As if someone had switched on a light bulb in his head, his eyes lit up in realisation.

"You're scared that I'm going to hurt you again… I've already told you I'd never do that."

"I'm completely sure that you really believe that… Ninety-nine percent of me believes it too, but there's still a tiny part of me that can never be entirely certain you won't lash out again one day if we break up." She paused for a moment to let the air filter in and out of her lungs. "I can't take the chance of things blowing up again, because if they did everything would be over. You and me. You and Jacob… I need to protect all of us. It's better if we stay friends."

"Yeah because we do the whole _friends_ thing really well, don't we?"

"Then maybe it's about time we did... All I want is some stability for all of us."

Watching her grip his fingers more tightly, an idea hit him like a freight train. It seemed like the perfect solution.

"Then marry me," House implored in almost a whisper.

"Excuse me!" Her hand shot away from his, and her face contorted into a puzzled frown.

"I know it's not practical while I'm in here, but afterwards… It'd give us all the stability we need." He stopped to look at her stunned expression, before repeating his request again. "Marry me."

More than once Cuddy's mouth dropped open as if she was about to speak, but the words didn't seem to be forthcoming.

"Are you serious?" she finally managed.

"Completely serious."

Again she appeared to be at a loss for words, until her mind seemed to settle on something that was plaguing her.

"Are you even divorced?"

Now it was his turn to be struck dumb. He'd meant to, but as soon Wilson had told him about the cancer he'd forgotten about it. His 'wife' had slipped from his mind the moment he'd left Princeton.

"No," he finally breathed after much hesitation. _Fuck! _

Shaking her head at him knowingly, he watched a lone tear fall from her eye, which she quickly wiped away with the back of her hand and tried to keep herself together.

"Yeah of course you were being serious," she mumbled sarcastically under her breath, as she got to her feet. "I've got to go."

"Cuddy, sit down."

Ignoring him she took a deep breath, and held onto the chair.

"I'll try and get back to see you in a few weeks, and I'll send you Danny's address," she said as evenly as she could manage, barely looking in his direction. "I've left a couple of things for you with the guards."

"Please Cuddy, sit down so I can explain," House practically begged.

"You don't have to. We're just friends." Firmly she met his gaze and offered him a fake smile that couldn't be any further from demonstrating how she really felt. "Bye, House."

And with that she turned on her heel, and walked away out of the room and out of his sight, leaving him with his head in his hands, safe in the knowledge he'd screwed up again, as everybody around him continued to chatter away.

* * *

Cuddy stepped out into the cold, crisp air and flung her jacket over her shoulders, pleased that she'd finally made it into the relative freedom of the prison car park. She'd felt like she was on the brink of a panic attack when the guards had searched her once again, and now the open air was a welcome relief. Focusing on putting one foot in front of the other she made her way to her rental car, opened the door and slumped down into the front seat, her head lolling back on the rest as she closed her eyes in an attempt to calm herself down.

What had just happened seemed unreal. She'd anticipated coming to visit him would be difficult, especially in light of what she'd come to tell him, but she'd never expected him to propose to her in a million years. For a split second she'd thought he really meant it. That it wasn't just a tactic to get her to reconsider her position on their relationship, and then she'd remembered the manner in which she'd seen him get married the first time; the agony of watching him slip a ring on the finger of someone who was much younger, and probably much prettier in his mind. He'd said it was just a marriage of convenience, but she knew he'd done it to hurt her. One more twisting of the knife as punishment for breaking up with him, and it had worked. Wilson may have done his best to cheer her up, but she'd gone home that night with the awful knowledge that, whilst she was in bed alone, the man she was still in love with would be tucked up with his Russian bride.

And yet this seemed worse. Despite her outward appearance of being content with being on her own and bringing up her children as a single parent, she knew House was aware of how deep down she wanted the security and stability of marriage. How she'd nearly sought that out with Lucas, but she'd given it up to be with him because she loved him. For that split second after he'd asked her she thought she could have both, but it'd been too good to be true. House didn't take marriage seriously, and he never would. Now she couldn't even be sure if he took her seriously either. Every time she thought she knew who he was, what he was capable of, he seemed to move the goal posts. If she could never pin him down, it really was better if they kept their relationship as complication-free as possible and remained friends.

That didn't mean it didn't hurt though. With her composure finally crumbling her body became wracked with sobs, big wet tears falling down her cheeks until she couldn't cry anymore.

* * *

House sat on his bunk seemingly transfixed by a patch of the grey breezeblock wall a few feet in front of him, his mind going over and over the conversation he'd had with Cuddy a couple of hours earlier, when he suddenly became aware his cellmate was talking to him.

"What?" he asked bad-temperedly. He really wasn't in the mood for small talk.

"I said I saw your girlfriend at visiting," the younger man repeated from above. "Man she's hot! I'd be pissed too if I was stuck in here and she was out there."

Instinctively clenching his fist, House felt a red mist descending on him.

"She's not my girlfriend. We're just friends."

Jumping down from the top bunk, Victor stood in front of him, poised to launch into one of the long diatribes House had become accustomed to in the couple of weeks they'd shared their cell. Generally he didn't mind him and despite his street savvy, he could see the naivety and enthusiasm of a kid who probably wouldn't be here if his home life had been better when he was a child. Now though, all he wanted was to be left alone to think.

"Dude! If she was my _friend_ I would soooo tap that," Victor exclaimed, ducking his head under the bed frame and resting his arms on his own mattress. "I mean that ass! Jesus!... I bet she purrs when you…"

And that was when House switched off. He was too busy thinking about where he was going to hit the guy in front him to concentrate on the words that were coming out of his mouth. It didn't matter that his hand was hurt, or that he knew full well that even though he might get the first punch, the second, third and fourth would be landed on him. Victor may have been smaller, but he knew how to fight; he'd told House as much when he'd gone into elaborate detail about how he'd knocked out three men who'd tried to attack to attack him once. And yet somehow that seemed reassuring to him. He wanted to feel a different kind of pain to the one he was experiencing now, and better still he longed to feel nothing: if he was lucky he'd end up unconscious.

Just as his hand lifted from next to his leg, he saw one of the prison officers step into the cell through his peripheral vision, and dropped it to his thigh in one inconspicuous motion, his pulse thumping furiously in his temples.

"Your visitor left you these," the rotund, middle aged man mumbled disinterestedly, dropping two items onto House's bed and walking straight back out of the door.

"You should have said you two had a kid. I never would have shot my mouth off." Victor offered apologetically, picking up the photo that had just been given to his cellmate and studying the little boy on it, before handing it back. "He looks like you."

"Yeah," was all he could manage as he examined Jacob's face for himself, and the younger man climbed back onto his bunk to leave him to it. It was almost certainly a brand new picture. He couldn't remember seeing it in any of the albums and despite it only being a couple of months he recognised the change in the soon-to-be two year old. His face had thinned out and lost some of its babyish features, and as he concentrated on the toy car he was pushing along the coffee table, his brow furrowed into two deep lines in between his eyebrows, his steely blue eyes fixated on the tiny red vehicle as if it was the only thing in the World. There was no getting around the fact that he was his son, and therefore at least partially his responsibility.

Putting the photo down, House picked up the open envelope that had come with it and stared at the front. He'd expected it to be addressed to him, but he hadn't expected the familiar, shaky handwriting that greeted him. Pulling out the notepaper inside, he deciphered the laboured scrawl from the hand of someone who had quite obviously struggled to put pen to paper:

_You've got a second chance. Don't screw this up._

It wasn't signed, but he knew this was Wilson nagging him from beyond the grave and he couldn't help but smile to himself. He must have written the letter, given it to the lawyer for safe-keeping, who then in turn passed it on to Cuddy for her to give to him. Right now he knew he had two options: fall back into the same pattern of misery and self-loathing, or try and forge a path forward even if it wasn't quite what he wanted.

"Yo, roomie!" he hollered, nudging Victor above him through the bedding.

"What's up House?"

"About that '_candy_' I asked you to get me…" He hesitated, before going on. "Forget it."

"Sure," his cellmate responded, nonchalantly thumbing through a magazine.

"Any chance I can get my radio back?"

"You know the rules, man. No returns… This ain't Walmart."

Sighing to himself, House found he didn't really care. The photo and the letter had given him the perspective he needed on things, and he felt relieved and pretty pleased with himself he'd just dodged a bullet with regards to the Vicodin. He had a son who Cuddy was not only prepared to give him access to, but she wanted his input on his life, and although he wanted more from her, he had to be content with friendship. It was so much better than losing her altogether again. They were more than worth the harsh reality of his sobriety.

Reaching under his bed he pulled out a writing pad and unhooked the pen from the side. He had two letters to write: the one he'd promised he'd send to Jacob and another to Cuddy, which would include various variations on the phrase, "I'm sorry, I'm an asshole."

Tomorrow he'd get in touch with his lawyer too. It was time he got around to that divorce.


	12. Chapter 12

_A big thank you to everybody who's still sticking with this, and taking the time to leave reviews. It really is much appreciated._

_This chapter is a series of snapshots from the day House gets out of prison to around six months later. It's a bit of departure from the others, so I hope it works._

_They don't belong to me, sadly._

* * *

Enjoying the sun on his face, House waited for them to open the gates, well aware that the butterflies in his stomach were a mixture of both excitement and nervousness. He'd been counting down the days until his release practically from the second they'd first locked him in his cell, but now that the time had come he couldn't help but feel a little cagey about his impending freedom. His life was about to change in a major way, and he wasn't entirely sure if he was ready for it.

A loud buzzer sounded drawing him out of his thoughts as the gates slid across. That was when he saw her a few hundred feet away from him. Opening the driver's side door, Cuddy stepped out and closed it again, walked around to the front of the silver car and perched on the bonnet, folding her arms across her chest as she waited for him to walk towards her. For a second or two he just stood there in awe. She wasn't wearing anything particularly special; just jeans, a black t-shirt, a red pair of heels and sunglasses, but not for the first time in his life he thought she could have been a model or an actress if medicine hadn't been her vocation from a young age. In stark contrast he was now an ex-con, who physically had seen better days. In short, he felt inadequate and completely baffled that she'd bothered to turn up to meet him, even if she hadn't hesitated to offer to be there when they let him out.

Inhaling sharply he closed the distance between them until he found himself a couple of feet away from her and smiled sheepishly.

"Hi."

"Hi," she replied, pushing her glasses back into her hair and grinning widely at him. Getting to her feet she took a step forward and held her arms out towards him. "Come here!" Dropping his bag House inched forward and encircled his arms around her, revelling in the fact she was responding in kind and squeezing his torso tightly. Deviously he snaked his hand lower and grabbed hold of her ass, biting his lip when he felt her tense up and then call his name in a reprimanding tone.

"I'm feeling nostalgic!" he said defensively, cupping her backside even tighter. Reaching behind them, Cuddy prised his hands off her and moved away, regarding him with a bemused look. "Oh come on! I've just spent months cooped up with hundreds of sweaty, hairy men. If you were a ninety year old woman with false hips and boobs that swing down to your knees, I'd have done the same thing."

"Really?"

"_Really!_... Don't think your ass is special, Lisa Cuddy," he jibed, barely holding it together.

"If I'd have known you were so fond of senior citizens I'd have sent my Mother…" Smirked to herself that he appeared to be lost for words, she turned back to get in the vehicle. "Get in the car."

Doing as he was told House limped to the rear door and was about to throw his bag into the back when he noticed a bouquet of flowers on the seat.

"Quite frankly I'm hurt that you didn't remember I'm more of a roses kind of guy," he commented sarcastically, as she opened her door to get in.

"We've got some time to kill before the flight… I thought whilst we're here we could go and see Wilson."

House sighed and placed his bag down in the well at the bottom of the seat, feeling like an idiot as he slammed the door shut. A couple of times when she'd come to see him they'd discussed going to the cemetery and paying their respects when he got out.

"Ok," he finally nodded.

A short while later House found himself staring at the grey headstone in front of him as Cuddy knelt and arranged the flowers either side of it, before reaching her hand out for him to pull her up. Instantly he took it and brought her to her feet.

"I still can't believe he's gone," she said breaking the silence and shaking her head in disbelief. "It'll be two years in September and even now I keep on expecting to hear his voice on the phone…"

"Or that he's going to plonk himself down next to you and whine like an old lady," he added with a weak smile, leaning heavily on his cane as his leg began to throb.

There was a pregnant pause as the both looked down at their friend's grave, deep in thought. Neither of them could comprehend that he was the one that had gone first. Moving her hand from her pocket, Cuddy slipped it into his.

"I know everybody else doesn't know what you did for him, but I do…. I might not like monster trucks or some of the other stuff you guys were into, but I don't ever want you to think that you're on your own."

For a long time House just looked down at her. Now more than ever, and especially in light of his present surroundings, it really did feel like she was the only one good thing he had left. Before he knew what he was doing he was leaning down and seeking out her lips with his own, when he felt her hand firmly push against his chest.

"House, no," she protested quietly and moved her head away.

Momentarily thinking he was in the right place for the Earth to swallow him up, House mumbled an apology and turned on his heel to go back to the car, wondering which insane part of his psyche thought it was appropriate to try and kiss her in the middle of a cemetery, let alone when they'd come to mourn their best friend.

Minutes passed as he gazed at the rows of headstones through the car window, and caught sight of an old woman meticulously cleaning the stone in front of her in between wiping tears from her eyes. Whoever was buried there, be it her husband, child or some other relative, she'd clearly loved them deeply and this act, however futile, was further proof of her devotion to them even though they were no longer with her. Looking past her at many of the other graves which were dilapidated and less well maintained he realised how much of a rarity it was to see this. People professed their love to their partners, children, parents and friends all the time and yet often when they slipped out of their lives they simply moved on and/or forgot about them. For that woman, whenever she'd lost the person she was grieving over, nothing was ever going to be the same again and he couldn't help but empathise. Losing Wilson had completely shifted the ground under his feet, but he'd clung onto Cuddy like a life raft and if he wasn't careful he'd risk taking her down with him, which was particularly unfair when he took Rachel and Jacob into consideration. She was right: they had to keep an emotional distance or they'd suck everybody into the all-encompassing black hole of misery and confrontation that had plagued their relationship the last time. That didn't make denying what they had between them any easier though.

As if on cue Cuddy opened the driver's side door and sat down next to him, leaning her head back and focusing her attention a few feet on the road in front of her.

"So it took me all of ten seconds to screw up," House exhaled all in one go.

"You didn't screw up," she breathed. "We both need a bit of time to adjust to this now that you're out." He nodded in response, so she decided to change the subject. It was senseless adding to the awkwardness of the situation, at least this was neutral territory. "I think I've found you an apartment."

"Yeah?"

"We can take a look tomorrow if you're up to it."

"Sure."

Putting the key in the ignition she turned to him and grinned.

"You ready to meet our boy?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," he responded with a tempered smile, wishing he could share her out and out enthusiasm. He was already bound to this little boy he'd never met, yet he knew there were no guarantees Jacob would even like him. Rarely had meeting someone for the first time meant this much to him. If ever.

Sensing his trepidation Cuddy reached over and squeezed his hand.

"It's ok, Rachel made a banner... Except when she got to your name she ran out of paper so she just drew a House," she admitted with a smirk.

"That's… wow… That's ingenious!" he cracked, letting out a chuckle. "You should probably be pleased that my last name isn't Bullock. Kids can sometimes have a problem differentiating between certain vowels."

Laughing genuinely she turned the key.

"Well Mr _Bullock_, we've got a plane to catch."

* * *

Splashing water on his face House looked in the bathroom mirror above the sink, and saw the dark circles under his eyes; the last remnants of his hangover from the night before;- a night which now he'd rather forget. Five minutes ago he'd awkwardly excused himself and left Jacob watching cartoons in his new living room, he'd said because he needed the toilet, but in reality he was hiding out. He'd taken a call from Cuddy when he was sat on his own in the café near his apartment earlier that day, and reluctantly agreed to pick him up from the Nanny who'd fallen ill during the morning. This was the first time he'd had him on his own, and now he had no idea what to do or what was expected of him. His mind cast back to 3 weeks earlier when he'd walked through Cuddy's front door and immediately seen the little boy knelt down in front of the coffee table next to Rachel, seemingly ensconced in something she was telling him about the doll she had in her hands. As soon as they'd noticed their Mom both of their mouths had split open into wide grins and Jacob had run to her before she'd had chance to remove her jacket. Picking him up she'd hugged him and had taken a step back towards House, as she tentatively began an introduction.

"You know Mommy told you I was going to pick up Daddy?"

"Uh-huh," he answered, wrapping one of her curls around his index finger.

"Well this is your Daddy, baby."

Encouragingly she smiled in House's direction, as Jacob's brow furrowed for a moment or two.

"You mean the man who writes me letters?"

"Yeah sweetie," she confirmed, rubbing at a splodge of green paint on the corner of his face.

Turning to the guy she was referring to, Jacob looked him up and down and offered a weak, "Hi."

"Hey!" House returned a little over enthusiastically, before the three year old looked back at his Mom and asked if he could play outside.

He wasn't quite sure what he'd expected, but relative indifference hadn't necessarily crossed his mind, and he'd been greeted with the same bored tolerance by his son ever since.

Pulling him back into the present moment he heard a door close and a woman's voice, and half-expected it to be Cuddy back from work early to pick Jacob up. What actually greeted him when he went to investigate turned his stomach. In the corner of the room the little boy had pressed himself against the wall next to the bookcase, as a blonde woman in her late twenties crouched down and tried to talk to him; the same woman he'd slept with the night before after meeting her at a local bar. Suddenly he felt as sick to his stomach as he had when he'd woken up in the early hours of the morning and found her next to him in his bed, breathing evenly as she slept on. Rationally he knew he hadn't done anything wrong, and yet his first instinct was to flee the scene out of a cloying sense of guilt in the hope that Kate, Carol, or whatever her name was, would get the message when she woke up and found an empty apartment. Clearly she hadn't though.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he asked angrily, bringing her to her feet.

"I knocked but there was no answer. I heard the TV so I tried the door… Is this your son?"

"That's none of your business," House retorted coldly. "Why are you even here?"

She gulped, and looked as if she'd rather be anywhere else apart from where she was in that minute.

"I think I left my keys."

"Where?"

Turning to look at the boy behind her, she gestured nervously towards the door that led into the bedroom.

"In there."

Looking past her at Jacob, he saw him glued to the spot with his hands behind his back as he looked on confusedly at the situation that was playing out before him. He needed to get this over and done with as quickly as he could.

"Give me a minute."

Walking into the bedroom he looked either side of the bed and then eventually found the bunch of keys at the side of the night stand, grabbed them and wandered back into the living room handing them to her.

"Thanks," the young woman said gratefully, inserting them into the bag that hung from her shoulder. "I guess I'd better go."

"Yeah," House agreed jamming his hands into his pockets, and thinking how much easier this would have been if she hadn't been so nice about it all.

Following her to the door he held it open for her as she stepped into the communal hallway and turned around to look at him. She was pretty. If circumstances were different he might have been interested, but the fact was he wasn't and there was no point in stringing her along.

"You don't want to see me again, do you?" the blonde enquired knowingly, purposefully lowering her voice so that Jacob couldn't hear.

"No… I'm sorry."

Disappointedly she sighed and tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her ear.

"I'm sorry too, Greg."

Craning her neck forward she planted a chaste peck on his cheek and then turned on her heel to exit the building, as he closed the door and leant his back against it wondering why his life had to be full of stupid mistakes and awkward moments like that. A few feet away from him Jacob regarded him with what appeared to be a mixture of suspicion and contempt. Looking from him and then to the television House knew he had to say something. They couldn't stand at adjacent sides of the room in silence for another couple of hours.

"Wylie Coyote is so stupid," House finally commented jovially. "If he was that good at painting things and making them look so realistic he should spend his time being an artist and making money, rather than chasing Roadrunner around the place."

The little boy's forehead creased into two deep lines and his mouth turned up into a half sneer.

"Then what would be the point?" he shrugged, his palms remaining flat against the wall as he crossed one leg in front of the other.

"I… I don't know." In that precise second he felt like a complete idiot, even more so because he'd been outmanoeuvred by a three year old. Stepping forward he bent over the back of the sofa. "Do you want something to eat or drink?" Jacob shook his head and stared down at his feet, looking at the undone lace on one of his sneakers, and then lifting his gaze to meet his Dad's.

"Rachel makes fun of me because I don't know how to do laces yet."

Smirking to himself, House made his way over to him, bent down and began to tie his lace.

"Rachel didn't know how to tie laces when she was your age either," he confided, pulling the two sides of the knot. "Girls don't like to admit they weren't born knowing everything, especially your Mommy and your sister."

Raising himself to his full height again, instinctively his hand fell to his thigh when he felt a twinge there.

"What happened to your leg?"

House knew the question was going to come sooner or later, and he'd already decided he was going to tell him the truth. Taking a step back he perched on the arm of the sofa.

"I had something called an infarction… Some of the muscles in my leg died, so the doctors cut them out."

Wincing slightly, Jacob bit his lip.

"Does it hurt?"

"All of the time," House admitted. "Sometimes a little, sometimes a lot."

For what seemed like an eternity, his son looked at him thoughtfully.

"Can I see it?"

At first he considered it. When he was younger, he'd have been curious too, but then the thought of Cuddy shouting at him for giving the little boy nightmares crossed his mind. It probably was too much for someone so small to deal with right now.

"Maybe some other time," he offered, turning off the TV as he glanced at the piece of furniture in the other side of the room and formulated a plan. "Have you ever played a piano before?"

Jacob shook his head, and looked excitedly at the baby grand House had treated himself to only a few days earlier. Until he'd spotted it in the window of a music store and had it moved in, the apartment had felt like something was missing.

"Grandma Arlene's got one, but we're not allowed to touch it when we go see her."

Getting to his feet the former diagnostician offered his hand out for Jacob to take.

"What's the point of having a piano if nobody's going to play it?"

After a little hesitation Jacob wrapped his fingers around his father's and followed him to the opposite side of the room, looking at him expectantly as he was lifted onto his knee and the lid was brought up to reveal the keys underneath. With a flourish House ran his fingers down the length of the board, feeling the little boy jump slightly on his leg at the cacophony of noise it produced.

"Your turn," he said encouragingly.

Tentatively Jacob placed his finger on the key that was nearest to him, and pressed down, a gleeful smile spreading across his face at the sound it made. Again he played the note, and then again and again, his legs swaying happily in the space between the base of the piano and the limbs that were propping him up.

"There are other notes, you know."

"I like this one," Jacob retorted defiantly, making the older man roll his eyes. He should have known that stubbornness was one of the character traits his son was bound to have considering who his parents were. "Who was that lady?" he went on to ask, stilling his finger on the key.

Fumbling to find an appropriate answer, he settled on the most obvious.

"She's just a friend."

"Like you and Mommy are friends?"

If there was a less accurate equivocation, House couldn't think of one.

"No kiddo, not like your Mommy and me... We're different." Once more he felt the guilt gnawing away at him, confirming how much of a mistake last night had been. He wasn't ready for a relationship with another woman, and he wasn't sure if/when he would be. Waking up next to somebody else had felt wrong, and he knew it'd hurt Cuddy if she found out he'd casually slept with someone else, even if she'd never admit it in a million years. "Listen, your Mom doesn't need to know about Daddy's visitor today, does she?"

"Why?" Jacob enquired, now concentrating on alternating his fingers in between two notes.

"Because…" He paused for a second to fill his lungs with air. "Because that lady's not important."

Turning to look up at his Father, one pair of steely blue eyes met another.

"Daddy?"

House realised he could probably count on one hand the number of times Jacob had actually called him that since he'd come back to San Francisco after leaving prison. Generally he'd avoided calling him anything when he'd been at the house, or more or less ignored him altogether, preferring to get Cuddy's attention if he needed anything. It felt strange having somebody call him that, and yet he quickly realised how much he liked it too. For the umpteenth time since he'd found out, he was almost inclined to shake his head in disbelief that he had a son.

"Yeah?"

"Have you got any cookies?"

* * *

House offering to babysit had shocked her probably more than Rachel letting slip that she had a date the following night seconds earlier, as they all sat around the dining table one night. She'd literally bumped into the guy in question at the supermarket a few days earlier, and when he'd introduced himself and then asked her out for a drink, even though her first inclination was to decline, Cuddy couldn't think of a good enough reason to say no. David was good-looking, ran his own business and had a son from a previous marriage, and she hadn't been out on a proper date for, well, years, so why not?

Opening the front door, the first thing she heard were the snores from the sofa; a louder, gravelly rattle punctuated by two sets of much softer intakes of breath, as the muted television provided the only light in the living room. Slipping off her heels and leaving them at the bottom of the stairs, Cuddy tiptoed closer to the source of the noise, and couldn't help but smile at the scene before her. Sat in the middle with his head lolling back and his mouth slightly open, House was propping up Jacob and Rachel either side of him, as the former lounged precariously on the edge of the sofa, his head resting on his Dad's lap, and the latter snuggled into his torso. For a second or two she was tempted to take a picture with her phone and use it to tease him later, because if somebody had told her a few years ago she'd come home one day to find House like this with her kids, she'd have laughed in their faces. Instead she stepped forward and shook his arm gently until his eyelids began to flicker open.

"Hey," he eventually whispered, lifting his head and rubbing his eyes with one of his hands. "We fell asleep."

"I noticed."

"How was tonight?" he asked cautiously, his gaze fleetingly dropping to the carpet before making eye contact again. It was subtle, but she knew him well enough to know that despite him seeming to be ok with her date, deep down he was never going to be entirely alright with her seeing somebody else. To offer to look after the kids whilst she went out with another guy had involved him sucking up a lot of pride. He needn't have worried though. For most of the time she was out she'd either spent it texting him to see if Rachel and Jacob were ok, or looking at her phone to see if he'd replied. After the second time she'd come back from the bathroom to ring him, she'd looked around the bar and couldn't see David anywhere. Asking the barman if he'd seen him, she was told he'd gone and was handed a note with the money for a cab attached to it: _I really like you Lisa, but I'm not into threeways with other guys. _Thoroughly pissed with herself she sat and had another drink, before hailing a cab and coming home. There was no way in hell she was going to tell House that though.

"I'll tell you later. First we need to get these two upstairs… Can you manage him?" Cuddy asked softly, gesturing towards the little boy.

"Sure."

A little while later, she walked back down the stairs and found House perched on the arm of the sofa with his leather jacket on.

"You're going?... Usually I have to kick you out after you've emptied my fridge and drunk all my coffee."

He shrugged his shoulders.

"A professor's travelling in from Cern to give a talk about the Hadron Collider in the morning. I thought I might break the habit of a lifetime and actually turn up to something before nine AM…" He paused for a second and cheekily looked Cuddy up and down in her black dress. "Unless you can think of a good reason for me to stay." In response she lifted an eyebrow at him warningly. "Fine!" House conceded, rising to his feet. "You going to see this guy again?"

For much longer than she intended nothing came out of her mouth. She knew House would eventually want some details, and as much as she didn't want to share her embarrassment she didn't want to create a rift between them by lying for no good reason. Even if they weren't together she liked having him there. The best thing to do was tell as little of the truth as she could get away with.

"I doubt it," she admitted, awkwardly crossing her arms around herself. "You've gotta kiss a few frogs first eh?" For a millisecond Cuddy saw his line of vision drop to her lips, and she felt her pulse quicken. It frustrated her that he could _still_ have this effect on her with a single look, and so she changed tack. "You better not have gone snooping in my room again tonight."

"It's all good… I left the porn where I found it," he answered dismissively, the corner of his mouth turning up into a wily smirk.

Sighing, she shook her head. A few nights earlier he'd offered to put the kids to bed and then hadn't come downstairs. When she'd gone up to see what was wrong she'd found him in her closet going through a box. Before she could ask him what he thought he was doing, he'd held up a suspect DVD and was tutting at her.

"As I've told you about twenty times before, a. I've never watched it, and b. I'm pretty sure it belonged to you." As with so many other things after the move, they'd laid in cardboard boxes about the house untouched. With work, the kids and life in general she hadn't had time to sort everything out.

"You know the first step to combatting addiction is admitting you have a problem, Cuddy," he said in a condescending tone. "Relying on porn to get you through the day is a serious matter."

"Shut up and go home!" There was no real force in her request, in fact he was cheering her up after a crappy night, but there was always some apprehension when she found herself alone with him these days. It wasn't that she didn't trust him, but more that she didn't quite trust herself.

"Fine!" House exclaimed throwing his hands in the air in mock exasperation. "I know when I'm not wanted." Closing the gap between them he took a second to unashamedly appreciate the woman in front of him. "That guy you went out with tonight is such a moron. You looked amazing tonight." Before she had chance to answer he was already leaning forward and placing a kiss on her cheek that lasted a fraction too long for people who just considered themselves 'friends'. "Goodnight, Cuddy," he murmured into her ear and then limped heavily into the hallway, grasped his cane and walked out of the house, leaving her heart thumping in her chest.

"Goodnight, House."

To say that she'd had a bad day was an understatement, and this was only making matters worse. Cuddy glared down at her son, as he looked up at her with a mixture of insolence and disdain. Dark circles were etched under his eyes and she knew full well that if she didn't get him in the bath in the next few minutes, he'd fall asleep and then it'd be impossible to wash out the blue glitter glue he'd somehow managed to get stuck in his hair.

"Baby, you _need_ to get a bath before you go to bed," she insisted as calmly as she could manage. All she wanted was to get this over and done with and have some peace.

"No!" Jacob's arms folded across his chest defiantly, and he stood his ground. "I want to stay here and watch cartoons with Daddy and Rachel."

"This isn't up for discussion!... We can't take you to look at your pre-school tomorrow with your hair looking like that!" Despite her best efforts to temper her increasing anger, her voice had raised a notch attracting the attention of House and Rachel, who were now peering over the back of the sofa and watching what was happening behind them, rather than what was on the screen.

"That's not fair!" the little boy screamed, tears beginning to form in the corners of his eyes.

"The sooner you realise that life isn't fair, the better," Cuddy screeched back, reaching down to grab his hand when House stepped in between them and stopped her.

"I've got this." Calmingly, he rubbed her arm and turned around to pick Jacob up. "Dude! You can't go and look at your school with glitter in your hair… Everybody will think you've been attacked by a bunch of evil fairies.

With minimal resistance she watched House slowly carry their son up the stairs, and heaved a sigh of relief. Turning her attention to Rachel she switched the TV off, and held out her hand for her daughter to take.

"Come on Rach, it's time for you to go to bed too."

"But Mom!" the seven year old protested with a whine.

"Honey, I'm not in the mood to go through this with you too… If we hurry up there'll be time for me to read you something."

Begrudgingly Rachel gave in and went upstairs with her, wandering into the bathroom to brush her teeth. Watching from the doorway Cuddy saw House applying a small mountain of bubbles to his son's head in the bath and then rubbing his scalp, as Jacob happily splashed around in the water.

"So who knew glitter glue was the most difficult substance known to mankind to get out of somebody's hair?" he cracked, filling the jug on the side of the bath and pouring it over the boy's head.

"Do you want me to try?"

"I'm good." He turned his head towards her at the door and smiled broadly, before reaching for the shampoo and soaping up Jacob's hair again. "You know me, I like a challenge."

In that moment she couldn't stop her eyes meander over his body, as his attention diverted to the clump of hair that was stuck together. Lying to herself that she hadn't missed him like that was pointless;- she really had. She'd often longed for that type of physical contact in general, but specifically the way he was capable of making her feel when he touched her. Biting down on her lip, she stared at his ass until Rachel nudged past her to go to her room, and pulled her with her.

* * *

She waited until House came out of Jacob's room and then clasped his hand and dragged him into her own, barely kicking the door shut before pushing him against her wardrobe and finding his lips with her own. Long seconds passed with him responding in kind, his mouth greedily taking what she was offering until he felt compelled to stop and break away.

"What is this?" he asked breathlessly.

Determined to get what she wanted, Cuddy began to palm the length of him through his jeans.

"This is me wanting you to fuck me."

"What happened to the whole 'friends' thing?" he gulped, trying to maintain some sort of composure and not think about throwing her on the bed, stripping her naked and then screwing her until she moaned his name.

"We can be friends with benefits."

Tilting her head up she went to kiss him again, but he grabbed her wrist and side-stepped out of the way.

"Cuddy, I can't do this"

"You don't want to have sex with me?" Her expression was a jumble of hurt and incredulity.

"Of course I want to have sex with you!... Jesus! I can think of a time when I didn't want to sleep with you, but not like this."

"You're actually turning down no-strings sex?"

As soon as he heard her say it, a loud, derisive snort escaped him.

"Is that even possible when you have a kid and a library archive's worth of history?" Her mouth opened as if she was about to say something, but no sound came out. "You don't want sex, you want a distraction and as much as I love screwing you senseless, I'd rather not have you pissed off with me for the next month because you feel like I took advantage of you… I'd also rather not spend the next month feeling crappy because I took advantage of you."

"And you know this because?" she inquired defensively, her hands planting themselves on her hips.

"I knew something was up the second you came back from work... You've been quiet all evening, you flew off the handle when Jacob started being difficult, and now this." He stopped for a second and lowered his voice, remembering the little boy was sleeping next door. Usually he could sleep through a train wreck, but he didn't want this conversation to get more complicated than it already was. "What the hell happened today?"

For a second of two he saw her bottom lip wobble, before she managed to steel herself.

"I don't want to talk about it."

With his leg throbbing, House felt the need to take his weight off it and sat down on the bed, rubbing his thigh. Glancing up he saw her looking down at him, the concern forming across her features.

"Look Cuddy, I can't just sleep with you once and not want more… I care about you too much." Watching her look away, he saw her eyes grow glassy with unshed tears. "I also care about you enough to know when something's really not right." Swallowing back the bile that was rising from his stomach he went on. "If somebody's laid a finger on you…"

Quickly her eyes met his and she shook her head emphatically.

"It's nothing like that."

Only then realising he was holding his breath, House let the air escape from his lungs as the relief hit him. He had no idea how he'd react if anybody ever did anything like that to her, but he knew it'd probably end with him being incarcerated for a long time.

"Then tell me what's wrong?"

"You'll think I'm stupid," she countered.

"That's a given… Even so I'd still like to know what was so bad that you'd resort to sleeping with me to make yourself feel better," he joked, seeing the ghost of a smile spread across her face. Swinging his legs onto the bed and propping his back against the headboard, he held out a hand for her to take. "A woman I once knew said I was pretty comfortable." Smirking at how he never forgot anything like that, Cuddy relented and took his hand, climbing onto the bed and settling herself in between his legs, her head leaning against his chest.

For a long time neither of them said anything. They were both just happy that they'd allowed themselves this physical contact; Cuddy closing her eyes as House ran his fingertips through her curls, marvelling to himself how good it felt to have her this close to him again.

"I've been making trips down to the Children's cancer ward in my lunch breaks for a few months," she said quietly, finally breaking the comfortable silence. "I met one of the Moms in the cafeteria a while ago and we started talking on a regular basis… Her name's Olivia. She has a little boy called Daniel who's the same age as Jacob, and he was diagnosed with leukaemia about a year ago… She'd been bringing him in for chemo for months, and then finally they were told he'd gone into remission."

"And what happened?" House coaxed gently.

"He had a massive heart attack this morning…" She paused a second to wipe away the tears that were descending down her cheeks. "I didn't find out until Olivia wandered into my office in a daze this afternoon."

"And they don't know why?" he asked out of a deep-rooted sense of curiosity. This sort of case had been part of who he was for years, and he had a hard time not showing his interest.

"They're doing the autopsy tomorrow." For a full half a minute he watched her run her finger along the curve of her clenched palm, well aware she was concentrating on anything she could to prevent herself from breaking down completely. "She's on her own, and she tried for years to have Daniel with IVF and now he's gone… When she came to see me, she was in floods of tears and all I kept thinking about was how that could have been me… I'm such a selfish bitch."

"No you're not," House said firmly, wrapping his arms tightly around her and resting his chin lightly on her forehead. "You've just been shocked into realising how lucky you are… How lucky we both are," he quickly corrected himself. "For years I didn't even dare to let myself imagine what it would be like to have kids, and now I can't even begin to imagine what it would be like not having our boy terrorizing me every time I set foot in the door… Rachel for that matter too… I don't think I can remember being happy for this length of time in my entire life."

The truth was Cuddy couldn't remember anything like it either. Sure they had their ups and downs, but when they were all together it felt right; like they were a proper family and that was something she'd longed for most of her adult life.

"I miss us."

"I miss us too."

"I'm so scared that if we get back together again and it doesn't work out, everything will blow up in my face again… I don't think I'm strong enough to pick up the pieces and start again somewhere else. I can't put the kids through that either. Not now that you're such a big part of their lives."

"I'd never hurt you again," House insisted.

"You don't know that!"

He sighed, and leant his head back against the metal rung behind him.

"I have no idea what to say to convince you I'm not that asshole anymore… All I want to do is look after you and the kids." He stopped talking for a second and laced his fingers through hers. "If we break up, we break up… I'll deal with it because I know that us being friends and sharing responsibility for bringing up our son like adults is way, way better than me losing both of you for good… I can't lose you again. Either of you."

For what seemed like forever to him, Cuddy sat in silence and considered what he'd just said. Feeling like she was being tugged in two completely different directions, she finally settled on a compromise and twisted around to look him in the eye.

"Come to therapy with me… We need someone to help us with this."

"Because that helped so much before," he snappily retorted. "My trajectory was from a mental institution to prison within two years, and that was after I had shrinks on tap."

"Please."

With one word and the way she was looking him, he knew he couldn't deny her this. In any case he'd be totally idiotic to say no if it meant they had a chance.

"Ok."

"Thank you," she whispered, reaching out and cupping his cheek in the palm of her hand. God he'd missed her doing that, and looking at him like he was the only thing left in the World.

"I should probably go."

"Can you stay the night?" Immediately she saw the reluctance on his face and she felt the need to clarify. "I mean on a strictly 'fully-clothed, hands on top of the covers' basis… I don't want to be on my own tonight."

"What about the kids?" There would be some seriously awkward small talk at breakfast if they saw him wandering out of their Mom's room in the morning.

"I'll kick you out of bed before they get up."

"Nice!" he cracked.

Getting up, she opened her chest of drawers and pulled out an old t-shirt and a pair of pyjama bottoms. It wasn't what she usually wore to bed, as he well knew, but neither of them needed any encouragement. "You got a chastity belt in there too?"

"I think I'm safe," she answered, walking into her bathroom to get changed, but not bothering to close the door behind her.

He had no intention of sneaking a peek of her anyway, not tonight, but the fact that she trusted him enough not to bother shutting it made House unfeasibly happy for such a seemingly small thing: she trusted him and that was a big deal. Kicking off his sneakers and socks, he slipped under the covers and tucked his hands behind his head on the pillow.

For the first time probably ever, he was optimistic about where they were heading.


	13. Chapter 13

_Many, many thanks to all the people who read, reviewed, alerted and favourited after the last chapter was posted. You're the reason I'm still bashing away at the keyboard._

_I know some people had a real problem with House sleeping with someone else in the last chapter, and I can't say I'm entirely happy that he did it either, but I do think it was in-character for where he was at that point in time, and that it brought some much needed growth with it. House has always been about quick-fix solutions to his emotional problems, and a one night stand was symptomatic of that. Except all it did was make him feel like crap and solidify in his mind that he's not really interested in anybody else, sexually or otherwise. I did think long and hard about letting Cuddy sleep with somebody else too, but I couldn't find anything that was plausible or in-character. I don't think she was ready for a fling or a relationship with anybody at all before House turned up on her doorstep with Wilson, and in my opinion she'd have been wracked with guilt if anything would have happened when he was in prison. As for her date, well, her head was completely elsewhere at that point after living as an 'almost-family' for several months since House was released. Even if she was interested enough to sleep with that guy, I think it would have devastated her to come home afterwards and find him being so good with the kids. Is it fair in a tit for tat sense that he got to sleep with someone else, and she didn't? Absolutely not, but I'm determined to write these characters in a way that tallies with my view of who they are and what they're capable of, and Cuddy has a sense of propriety that House just doesn't. There is an argument I guess that Cuddy wouldn't have gone that long without sleeping with someone, but I think they've both gone through extended 'dry spells' in their lives, due to their tunnel vision regarding their careers and their emotional unavailability. For instance, I strongly doubt House had sex with anybody in between Stacy leaving him and then when they had their affair when she came back. Sure he made references to hookers, but I always saw that as bravado and the will to shock. Anyway where these two are now, on a subconscious level at least, they're already committed to one another._

_It was never my intention to just let the whole one night stand thing lie anyway, especially as Jacob was dragged into it. Stay tuned if I haven't already scared you off! There are only a few more chapters left and trust me this story isn't going to have an unhappy ending._

_A big thank you to a friend who I thrashed this out with. I doubt we'll ever agree, but you did help me to pinpoint where I wanted to start this chapter._

_Some of these characters are mine, some I'm just renting._

* * *

"So you two haven't had sex with anybody else since Greg left prison?"

As soon as House heard the question leave the lips of the middle aged woman who sat expectantly with her legs crossed in front of him and Cuddy, he felt the colour drain from his face and shifted awkwardly in his seat. For the half an hour they'd already been there the questions 'Wendy' had asked had mainly been innocuous ones about their backgrounds and what they hoped to achieve from therapy; to the point that he'd begun to zone out and peruse the titles of the books on the shelves behind her. This, however, he didn't expect.

"Excuse me!"

"House has, I haven't," Cuddy chirped in matter of factly before the therapist could repeat the question.

Automatically his head snapped to the side to look at her in confused horror, as she purposefully avoided eye contact with him and set her jaw.

"You knew and you didn't say anything?"

"Of course I know!," she exclaimed, rolling her eyes and expelling the air from her lungs in a derisive snort. "You seriously expect a three year old to not let it slip that you had some woman in your apartment?"

Impulsively his first instinct was to qualify it.

"It was one stupid mistake. It didn't mean anything…"

Finally Cuddy allowed herself to look at him briefly, her eyes belying a mix of anger and hurt for a split second before she diverted her attention to her skirt and ironed out a small crease with her hand. He'd already noted that in this room she was a weird mix of the professional and personal woman he knew, the softness he'd become accustomed to in their private interactions frequently being trumped by her need to not give too much away to the other woman in the room, who she barely knew.

"I don't care… The thing that really pisses me off is that you exposed our son to that after I asked you not to."

"She wasn't a hooker!" House quickly interjected.

Straight away her arms flew in the air, a sardonic smile creeping across her mouth.

"Oh well, that makes it ok then!"

Just by the tone of her voice he could tell she was majorly pissed, and he was really starting to regret having agreed to this. What was the point of it if it all it did was put them on even shakier ground?

"I didn't expect her to just turn up out of the blue like that… I didn't even know I was going to have Jacob that day."

"Please remind me to work my unexpected childcare issues around your conquests in future," Cuddy spat.

"It was _one_ stupid mistake that happened months ago."

Pleadingly his eyes met hers and locked there as they tried to size one another up. The tension slowly evaporated from her body leaving her just looking jaded, which in turn left him with the same piercing guilt he'd felt when he'd come to and realised the body in the bed next to him wasn't hers all those months ago.

"One in a long, long line of stupid mistakes," she said sadly.

There was nothing he could say to that because it was irrefutable, so he kept his mouth shut, turned his head away and stared at the stripped wooden floor beneath his feet. His screw ups were numerous and well-documented, and in that moment he regretted everything he'd put her through over the years. Not just the big things like the crash, but the constant meddling in her private life to the extent that she wasn't allowed a minute's peace.

"Let's step back a second for my own personal clarity," Wendy finally chimed in, cutting through the heavy silence that felt as dense as fog. "You've both said you weren't together and officially you still aren't, right?" In unison they nodded. "So Greg, do you mean you made a mistake because your son was unintentionally brought into the equation, or because you slept with someone else?"

"Both," he answered honestly.

"I never expected you not to sleep with anybody else ever again…" Cuddy cut in.

"But it still bothered you that he did?"

Waiting for an answer the therapist pushed her glasses up her nose, and quickly jotted something down on the pad on her lap.

"If you're asking me if I like the idea of him with anybody else? No, I don't…. I can hardly put my foot down and say he's not allowed to sleep with anyone else when we're not actually a couple though, can I?... House is his own person."

"And yet you spend most evenings together?"

Cuddy shrugged her shoulders.

"The kids like having him around. We're friends… It's not conventional I guess, but…." The rest of her sentence hung in the air as if it was a bird hovering above them. The Dean of Medicine really had no idea how to finish it. To outside eyes their set up probably would seem strange, but since when had she and House done normal?

"And what about you? There must have been opportunities for you to sleep with other people."

Even at the mere mention of it Cuddy saw House flinch at the side of her through her peripheral vision. The _mere thought_ bothered him, and it did nothing to assuage her worries about his jealousy.

"I'm a busy woman. Between work and the kids, I don't get the time to just pick up guys."

"Is that the real reason, or an excuse?" Wendy shot back, tapping the end of her pen with her thumb. "I find it really hard to believe that an attractive, intelligent woman like you wouldn't be able to find a casual or long-term relationship with someone if that was what you wanted."

Seeing that Cuddy appeared either reluctant or incapable to respond, House took the opportunity to butt in and deflect on her behalf.

"Are you hitting on her?"

Ignoring his jibe the therapist answered with a general question of her own.

"Have you two always been this possessive of one another?"

House frowned and turned to Cuddy, only to witness the look of sheer alarm that was etched across her features. It was their first session and yet Wendy had already started to get the measure of them. Begrudgingly, he couldn't help but respect her for it.

"I've had numbers given to me at work," Cuddy said quietly, steering the conversation back to where it was before he'd interrupted. "I went on a date about a month ago, but I spent most of the time wondering what House and the kids were up to." Pausing for a second she looked out of the window and watched the Sun going behind a cloud cast a shadow on the wooden fence in the woman's back garden. "I had no idea what I was even doing there. It felt wrong."

Glancing down at her notes, Wendy twisted her foot around at the ankle and kept silent in case her patient had anything else she wanted to add. When nothing was forthcoming she turned her attention to House.

"And how did you feel after you slept with this other woman, Greg?"

For a long time he didn't say anything. Talking about the aftermath of sleeping with another woman in front of Cuddy seemed surreal and made him achingly uncomfortable.

"I woke up and I felt sick," he eventually disclosed. "I wanted to go back and undo it."

"Why?" she pressed.

"Because… Because I felt like I'd cheated on Cuddy."

Next to him he heard her take a sharp intake of breath.

"Did you anticipate feeling like that before you did it?" Wendy enquired, her free hand making its way under her chin as if she was thinking about her next move in a game of chess.

He wasn't quite sure why, but the woman in front of him reminded him of his Mother. It wasn't that they looked or sounded alike, but there was a similar air of her being able to tell if he was lying or not, and that unnerved him.

"Well d'uh!... I didn't anticipate anything, I just did it." Leaning forward he rested his own head on his hand and examined a crack in one of the floorboards thoughtfully. "Cuddy had gone to see her sister with Rachel and Jacob. I didn't know anybody here so I hit a bar and started drinking… A girl came along, took pity on me, laughed at my jokes and my judgement flew out of the window… I missed being touched like that. The closest I'd had to any real kind of physical intimacy in months was a cavity search in prison."

"And I suppose I've been having wild orgies?" Cuddy barked.

Sitting back in his chair, he rubbed his hand over his face and grunted indignantly. He was so close to just getting up and walking out, but he knew if he did, chances were, she'd never forgive him for giving up like that.

"I can't live like this, Cuddy… Being near you all the time and not being allowed to be with you properly is fucking killing me. It's like everything I've ever wanted is being dangled in front of me, just out of my reach."

Running a hand through her hair in exasperation, she tentatively bit her lip.

"I still don't know if I can trust you… I want to. I want us… But what happens if it all goes wrong again? I've got the kids to think about."

"You think I'd hurt them?" The absolute horror was plain to see on his face.

"Not directly. Not intentionally," Cuddy qualified. "But if you hurt me again, you hurt them too… I'm no good to them if I end up in the same place I was after the crash. I can't go there again."

Her words felt like to a punch to his gut, and the World suddenly seemed to lose its colour. In an instant everything became hopeless.

"Then is there any point in us even trying?"

Several times Cuddy opened her mouth to give him an answer, but in quick succession it shut again each time. She had absolutely no idea what to say. Even for a seasoned problem solver like herself, it seemed like they'd found themselves in an impossible situation. Seeing they were struggling, Wendy decided to offer some advice.

"The way I see it, you have two have two realistic options. You either have minimal contact with each other when it doesn't involve the mutual upbringing of your son, and live your lives as separately as possible… _Or_ you work through your issues, draw a line under the distressing parts of your pasts, and start afresh."

"And what do you think we should do?" Cuddy asked nervously.

"I can't answer that," Wendy replied, shaking her head. "It's not my job to influence you either way."

Interlacing his fingers, House tapped his thumbs together in contemplation before speaking.

"You really think it's possible for us to work through this?"

"Anything is possible, Greg, but it would rely on a lot of hard work on both your parts… From what you've told me and looking through your notes, you both exhibit patterns of behaviour that are destructive to each other, and more often than not, yourselves." Uncrossing her legs, she put the pen and the pad on the small oak table next to her, and leaned forward to bridge the gap between her and her clients. "A relationship that's based entirely on need and want isn't a healthy one, and you've got to decide if there's more to it than that… From what I can gather so far, the pair of you seem to have self-esteem and attachment issues that were probably set in motion a long time ago. In my professional opinion it's unfeasible for you to expect to have a solid, long-term relationship if you don't deal with them."

"You mean we can't love each other until we truly love ourselves?" House countered sarcastically.

Without even a flicker of annoyance, Wendy met his gaze and smiled.

"Clichés are often rooted in the truth… Why should you expect Lisa to care about you if you're reckless with your own safety and well-being? What if she'd been the one who tried to operate on herself in the bathtub, and you'd been the one to find her?"

On two levels her question shocked him. First of all it was blatantly obvious that she really had done her homework regarding their backgrounds. Secondly, that hypothetical situation seemed so incongruous that he had no clue how to answer. Again she had him on the ropes, making him realise how much he'd underestimated her the moment they'd walked into her office. Wendy was more direct than Nolan had ever been, and it was throwing him.

"I don't know," he mumbled.

"But this is do-able?" Cuddy asked searchingly. "There is a chance that if we work at this we could get back together."

Sighing, the therapist re-crossed one leg over the other and alternated her eye contact between them.

"I'm not going to lie to you, I've worked with couples who had half the problems you have, and they decided that going their separate ways was for the best…. Greg, your dependence on Lisa to earn a living, and then increasingly for emotional validation, was just as much of an addiction as the Vicodin. Your enabling of that behaviour is also an issue, Lisa; and whilst there is progress on that front, echoes of that cycle are still evident…. That there's a history of violence complicates matters too. Many couples just can't get over the repercussions of domestic violence." Seeing House and Cuddy's shoulders sag, she decided to change tack. "I do, however, firmly believe that the best things in life are the ones you have to work the hardest for. That you're even here is an incredibly positive first step… You need to figure out what it is you like about yourselves _and _each other, and whether it's enough to make another attempt at a relationship worthwhile, both for your sakes and those of the children involved."

Turning to look at one another, the two patients both knew this was probably the hardest decision they'd ever have to make.

* * *

With the sound of chatter, the scraping of chairs on the floor and the clinking of cutlery on crockery all around them, House and Cuddy sat together in an oddly comfortable silence in the café they'd stepped into after their session. She looked out of the window at the people and the cars passing by, as he sat with his head in one hand and watched his finger tracing the sideways figure of eight in the spilled sugar on their table.

"I think I'm going to go away for a few days."

"Where?" Cuddy asked, half concerned, half annoyed that this was him running away from their problems rather literally this time.

"My Mom managed to get hold of my number. She's been leaving me messages for a couple of days… Her new husband's got family in Santa Barbara, so they've rented a beach house there for a few weeks… I guess it's time I got the whole 'slap in the face for pretending to be dead' thing out of the way."

Wryly she smiled back at him. Even if he had faked his own death for predominantly charitable reasons, she couldn't imagine how Blythe must have felt, first of all finding out he'd died and then months later realising he wasn't dead, probably through the media. If her kids ever pulled a stunt like that, at the very least she'd give them a serious talking to.

"Better sooner, rather than later I guess."

Scrutinizing her, House's forehead contracted into a set of deep lines as if he was gauging whether to ask her something or not. Eventually he bit the bullet.

"Can I take Jacob with me?" Immediately he saw her reluctance and so quickly continued. "I know this would be the first time I've had him for this long on my own, and that there's a long drive down there, but I really want to do this… I'd like my Mom to meet her grandson." Already seeing Cuddy beginning to back down he went on. "It'd give you and Rachel some time together, and you and me some breathing space to think."

Despite her lingering reservations she had to admit there were advantages to allowing him to go. More or less since Jacob had been born she'd worried that she was spreading herself too thinly between her two children, and it would give her and Rachel the opportunity to spend some quality mother-daughter time together. Besides, did she really want to deny her son starting up a relationship with his other grandmother? At the back of her mind she knew that House tended to avoid his Mother at all costs, and this was a sign of him both wanting to proudly show their boy off, and to introduce him to one of the people who was responsible for his own upbringing. Such a request was so foreign to his previous, detached existence that she knew this was a big deal to him; moreover Jacob was a big deal to him and he was unlikely to let him come to any harm. She needed to trust him on that front. Aside from anything else, perhaps House was right about them needing breathing space too.

"You'll ring me every day?" Cuddy inquired, pushing her coffee cup out of the way and leaning her elbows on the table.

"I'll let Jacob talk to you two, three, or four times a day if that's what you want."

"Ok," she breathed. "I can get his things ready for tomorrow. You can pick him up in the morning, if that's alright?"

"Perfect… It gives me time to call my Mom and firm up all the plans." Slowly reaching across the table, he saw Cuddy respond in kind and laced his fingers through hers. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," she responded, her thumb snaking up and down the side of his hand as she realised she was going to miss him too. She'd gotten used to seeing him practically every day again, and it was pointless lying to herself that House not being around, even for such a short period of time, wasn't going to be a wrench. "What about us? Should we talk?"

His natural instinct was to say yes. Unquestionably on the days he didn't see her and the kids he found himself pining for them, but that was something he'd have to get used to if they couldn't make this work. Realistically he could only expect to get access to Jacob a couple of times a week, and the therapist had being right about their need to live their lives separately if they couldn't get over their issues. Spending so much time around each other whilst living in this kind of 'relationship-limbo' wasn't healthy for either them or the children in the long-run. It was sensible to use the trip as a dummy run for that scenario, no matter how much he didn't want things to come to that.

"It's probably best if we don't… Me asking you what you're wearing would get old pretty quickly, but I'm only human."

Rolling her eyes, Cuddy laughed as he raised a suggestive eyebrow at her.

"Marginally," she jibed back.

"I'll tell my Mom you said that. She'll be delighted to know she gave birth to an alien life form."

"She must already know… That wookiee sound you make when you first wake up is a dead giveaway."

Straight away both of their minds jumped back to the morning the day before when Cuddy's alarm had woken her up, only to find her back pressed against his chest and his arm draped lazily over the top of her. At some point during the night they'd gravitated towards each other from opposite sides of the bed, and she had to admit it felt great having him there even if all they'd done was sleep. Waking him up had been altogether more interesting. After the third time of softly calling his name, he finally moaned in a long-drawn out fashion, and semi seriously offered to crawl under the bed so the kids wouldn't see him. Eventually managing to get him up and out, she instantly lamented the fact she'd had to.

"I have so many jokes about the noises you make in bed running through my head right now," House mumbled under his breath. "The thing is, I really value my kneecaps." Watching her purse her lips together in mock disgust, he knew she wasn't in the slightest bit offended, but he didn't want to push too hard. He was still delighted she'd agreed to let Jacob go with him, for which he still had plans to make. "And on that note I should go… I need to ring the mother ship, and then throw some clothes in a bag."

"Me too," Cuddy added, smiling at him as they got up and walked to her car outside. Turning and leaning against the door when they got there, she looked at the man who was stood a foot in front of her, and observed him nervously looking down at the ground with one hand jammed in his pocket and the other clenched tightly around his cane. "Do you want a lift?"

"No, I'm good thanks… It's not far. The fresh air will do me good."

In reality he wasn't sure he'd be able to resist the urge to ask her in.

"I wish this wasn't even an issue, you and me," she said sincerely, the distress plainly evident on her face. "I hate this."

Without thinking about it, House stepped forward and planted a chaste kiss on her forehead, inwardly wondering if it'd be the last time he'd be allowed, or allow himself to do that. As low key as it started out, this felt like a significant goodbye.

"It's my fault. I'm the one who messed up…"

Pulling him back as he tried to step away, she clung onto his free hand tightly.

"Do you have any idea how much you mean to me?" she asked in a low voice, wishing they were having this conversation somewhere more private.

"It doesn't matter," he shrugged. "If you can't find a way to trust me again, us staying out of each other's way is for the best. You deserve to be with someone who you know isn't going to hurt you, and you can't find that person if I'm constantly hovering in the background reminding you of us." Watching her lip begin to wobble, he knew he needed to get out of there before he lost his own composure. "I'll come for Jacob about eight in the morning."

And with that he turned on his heel and began walking, not stopping once in the three or so blocks to his apartment, until he stepped over the threshold of his front door and threw his keys in a bowl on the sideboard. Slumping down onto the sofa as it suddenly registered that his thigh was throbbing with the exertion, he'd no sooner sat down than the tears finally came.

He had no idea if he'd just done something incredibly brave or incredibly stupid.

* * *

With the sun beginning to set in the sky, House sat on the steps of the beach house and looked on as his stepfather played with Jacob on the beach, the two of them kneeling down and piling the sand they'd dug up from one side onto a huge mound at the other. What exactly they were doing he had no idea, but he was happy to leave them a few more minutes until it was time to put his son to bed. In spite of the 'interesting' talk he'd had with his Mother when he'd first turned up, House had found he'd actually enjoyed himself during the few days he'd spent there. Jacob had too after he'd gotten over his initial shyness, and started to get to know his new grandparents. Furthermore he'd had two babysitters on hand when he'd needed some room to think. Each night he'd been there he'd gone out onto the beach and thought about Cuddy; about what she was doing, if she was missing him as much as he was missing her and most importantly what the right thing to do was. For long hours he'd look out to sea and wonder what the future held, until the night air would finally get the better of him and he'd skulk off to bed, stopping on the way to check on his boy. There was no question that he loved her. He loved them both, but was that enough?

Hearing footsteps behind him, House turned and smiled as his Mom handed him a hot drink and sat down next to him with one of her own.

"I still can't get over how much like you he is when you were that age," Blythe commented warmly, smiling as she saw Jacob chuckle at something her husband had said to him.

"He's happier than I ever was." House hadn't particularly meant it as a dig, merely a statement of fact, but he knew his Mother had taken it that way when she stared guiltily into her mug. "You never loved Dad. I don't get why you didn't just leave and take me with you."

"Things were different then, Greg… I may not have loved him, but he offered the kind of stability that Thomas couldn't give us back then. He kept us fed and paid for your clothes."

"And knocked me about, locked me out overnight when I didn't agree with him, and repeatedly told me I was a waste of space," House spat back, thoroughly insensed.

"You were a difficult child sometimes."

"And that makes it ok?"

For a long time Blythe didn't reply. She just looked at her son, saw the hurt in his eyes and felt the piercing guilt permeate the pit of her stomach. So many times she'd gone over this in her head and tried to justify her inaction, but the excuses she'd made for herself had never been good enough. She had been wrong, and it was time she owned up to it.

"No," she admitted, her voice dropping to a near whisper. "I should have taken you out of that situation… I was a coward."

Almost relieved at the admission, House let the air filter out of his lungs and took a sip of his drink, placing the cup on the step next to him when he'd done so.

"You were scared of him too, weren't you?"

Blythe thought for a second or two, and then nodded her head.

"Your Father had a temper… He never raised his hand to me, but he came close."

"Am I like him?" he asked nervously, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed hard. It had always been one of his worst fears, and perhaps, subconsciously, one of the reasons why he'd always tried to keep people at arm's length. He'd never wanted to make anybody feel the way his Dad had made him feel when he was a boy and then a young man, and yet he'd spent far too of his adult life inflicting various amounts of emotional pain on the people who were closest to him.

"I have no idea why you'd even ask that!"

"I could've killed Cuddy when she was carrying my baby, Mom. All because she was having dinner with some guy… On so many levels that makes me worse than him." Rubbing the back of his hand over his anguished face, again he felt the nausea flowing over him like it always did when he thought about what he'd done. "I could've killed her… Her _and_ Jacob."

Reaching out to him, Blythe placed a supportive hand over his.

"What you did was a terrible thing. There's no getting around that son, and you've got to live with that burden forever… The difference between you and your Dad is that you know what you did was wrong, and you've got the opportunity to learn from that."

"Learning from my mistakes is not one of my strong points," House countered.

"Then maybe it's time you worked at it… Would you ever hurt her again?"

Not knowing what to say, he gave the first answer that came into his mind and the one that made the most sense.

"I don't know."

"Wrong answer!" she instantly fired back. "How do you expect Cuddy to believe you if you're not sure yourself?... Nobody else is in control of your actions."

"It's not that simple."

House's hand fell to his leg, which had suddenly tensed up and was on the verge of going into to cramp. Stretching his foot onto the step below, he began to massage his thigh.

"Things are generally as simple or as hard as you make them." Watching his discomfort Blythe winced and squeezed her son's hand tightly. "You love her don't you?"

"I can't even tell you how much," he responded genuinely. He thought he'd loved her the first time they'd gotten together and for years before that, but it seemed like nothing in comparison to what he'd felt for her ever since he'd found out that Jacob was his. It was deeper, purer and hung about him like the elephant in the room wherever he went. It was never going to be something he could just shake off or bury. As the mother of his child she was always going to be the woman who gave him something that he'd never dared to hope for before, and he adored her for allowing him the chance to be the Father he'd never had.

"Losing her and your son for good would be the worst thing that could possibly happen to you, wouldn't it?"

For years his worst nightmare had been waking up and finding they'd amputated his leg. So many times he'd thought it would be worse than dying, but now the loss of the people who meant the most to him would undoubtedly be more earth-shattering.

"Yeah," he nodded, glancing at Jacob who was now sat contentedly next to Thomas, watching the Sun get increasingly lower in the sky.

"Then make her believe you'd never hurt her again, and what's more mean it," Blythe implored, as her whole body turned to him. "Life is so short, Greg… You told me she was the best thing that ever happened to you. Don't regret losing her because you're too scared to put everything on the line."

"What if I'm not the best thing for her?... You've met her, Mom. She could have anybody she wanted."

In response she shook her head and sighed.

"Cuddy's got to decide what's best for her, but you've still got to meet her half way… That she was even prepared to see you again, and then gave you access to Jacob, speaks volumes about how much she cares about you." Cupping her hand under his chin, she turned his head to look at her. "She knows how special you are just like I always did, but you have to be the man she needs you to be… For her sake, for yours, and for that little boy over there."

Smiling at her, House raised an eyebrow.

"You know Mom, you missed your vocation as a life coach. You could have made millions selling self-help books to unsuspecting idiots," he retorted jovially.

"I'm just giving you the benefit of my experience. Don't wait like I did to be with the person you're supposed to be with."

"I know. Thank you." After kissing his Mom on the cheek he stood up and regarded her with a mischievous look that she'd seen all too often when he was younger. "Can I go and play with the other kids now?"

Rolling her eyes, Blythe gestured for him to go and watched as he slowly navigated the sand, eventually making it to his son, awkwardly sinking down next to him and putting a reassuring arm around the child's shoulder as he leaned into his father. Smiling to herself she realised there were her three boys, all in a row.


	14. Chapter 14

_Once again a huge thank you to everybody who's read, reviewed etc. You're all amazing!_

_To all the people who are concerned about Rachel, never fear, the littlest lady Cuddy is all part of the master plan too. You just pre-empted me! :)_

_Some 'adult content' at the end of this chapter, folks!_

_House, Cuddy and Rachel don't belong to me. The rest do._

* * *

"She's beautiful. Not just cute or pretty, but beautiful," House said determinedly, directing his comments at the therapist in front of him. "Cuddy walks into a room and everybody takes notice… She's super smart too though. I spent years putting her down about not being a proper doctor, but the fact is she does a job that few people are capable of doing, and yet she makes it look easy… Hundreds of people rely on her not screwing up every day, and she never buckles under the pressure, or gives up until something's done because she cares about every single person who walks through the doors at her hospital. Staff and patients."

Turning to look at the woman he was referring to, House felt his pulse quicken. Aside from the two minutes he'd taken to drop Jacob off after their trip, and to explain that he thought they shouldn't see each other until their next therapy session, he hadn't seen her in nearly a full week and it felt like much, much longer. He'd tried to distract himself by working on his thesis, playing the piano and watching TV, but most of the time he ended up staring into space or looking at the clock and imagining what she and the kids would be up to. One evening he found himself putting his jacket on and heading out of the apartment to go and see them, when he stopped and reminded himself they needed this time apart for a reason.

"Cuddy's a great Mom too," he carried on. "She says no when she has to, but she'd do anything for the kids and I pity the asshole who ever tried to hurt them… After everything that's happened to her, the crap she took from her Mom, the miscarriages, _me_,- she's still the strongest woman I've ever met." He paused a second and watched her breath catch as she processed what he was saying. By the look on her face he knew it meant something to her and he inwardly scolded himself for never having told her some of this before. "If we'd never met I probably wouldn't be sat here now. She's saved me so many times."

"Why do _you_ think Lisa did that, Greg? What qualities do you think she likes about you?" Wendy asked, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose and leaning back in her chair.

"Mostly she wants me for my body," House quipped back quickly, smirking as he saw Cuddy roll her eyes and the corner of her mouth twitch upwards. "I make her laugh, even if she doesn't want to, which God knows she needs after spending most of her day around people who are in serious need of a sense of humour transplant… I think she likes that I challenge her too. Because of who she is other people will kiss her ass all day long if they think it'll get them somewhere. Cuddy knows if I think she's wrong I'll tell her, and she respects that. Eventually…. My _massive _IQ gives her a lady boner too. I explained String Theory to her a few weeks ago and she practically wet herself with excitement…"

"I fell asleep," Cuddy piped in, shaking her head in amusement.

"That was what I said. She was so blown away, she fell unconscious."

Tapping her pen on her notepad, Wendy regarded House with a penetrating gaze that made him slightly uncomfortable.

"What do you think Lisa sees when she looks at you?"

Running his hand through his hair, he sighed and glanced at Cuddy, before dropping his eyes to the floor.

"I know what everybody else sees: an acerbic jackass with a limp… I think Cuddy looks at me and sees herself… Minus the stubble and the cane."

"Would you care to expand on that?" Wendy inquired interestedly.

For a few seconds he fumbled to find the right words, but then they came to him as if a fog cleared in his head.

"I knew from the first moment I laid eyes on her, she was different… Sure, on the surface, Cuddy's confident and assertive, but underneath there's this sadness there. I've always seen it because I recognise it… I think when she looks at me she's relieved there's someone else who knows what it's like to grow up feeling like you're not good enough. To feel the need to have to prove yourself to everybody…"

Before he even looked up he could sense her eyes on him, her mouth slightly parted as if she was in some kind of shock. He was absolutely right. She'd always been drawn to him because she saw something of herself in him; that same insecurity and a corresponding will to be the best in their fields.

"Is that true, Lisa?" Wendy asked, drawing her out of her thoughts.

Before she had chance to open her mouth and respond, House butted in.

"Can I just say something else?" Looking to Cuddy for her ascent, Wendy saw her nod her head and gestured for him to go on with her hand. On getting confirmation, he twisted his body around to face the woman to his left and took a deep breath. "Look we can go on forever playing 'She likes, He likes', but the truth is I love you. Nothing's going to change that… I wish I could go back and change what I did, but I can't. The only thing I can do is never allow anything like that to happen again, and spend the rest of my life making it up to you… If you give us another chance I am determined to make it work this time. No more acting like a five year old and refusing to pull my weight, but you and me on an equal footing."

Pausing to observe her once again, he saw her bite her lip and look down at one of the cuticles on her nails.

"You need to know that I won't flip out if it's not what you want," he went on cautiously. "I'm not going to punish you for not wanting to be with me like I did last time… I know what it's like being around someone you're scared of, and I can't expect you to live your life like that… I'm done with the Vicodin, the hookers and all the other erratic behaviour for good, whether we get back together or not…. I'm sick of my entire life being like a game of Russian roulette, me spinning the barrel and then putting the gun to my head. One day I'm not going to be as lucky as I have been so far, and that's not what I want. I want to live long enough to see my son grow up." Averting his gaze to the therapist for a second, her warm smile urged him on. "Wendy was right, though. We can't keep on torturing ourselves like this. If we can't work this out, we need to keep our distance… I'll get a lawyer to draw something official up about days and times I can see Jacob, so you know I'm not going to mess you around." Briefly glancing out of the window, he hesitated for a little while and continued. "It'd be cool if I could take Rachel now and again too. You'd get a break, and she wouldn't always feel left out if I took her brother anywhere special. I don't know if…."

"Are you going to shut up, and give me a chance to speak any time soon?" Cuddy interrupted angrily.

Thrown by her sudden outburst, House gulped sharply.

"Sorry," he mumbled uncertainly, dreading what she was about to say.

"You know, I spent those few days you were away with Jacob convincing myself that the quietness, the emptiness in the house was just down to him not being there, and part of it was…. But then you brought him back and it still felt like something was missing. The kids sensed it too… I could see them looking around, as if they were expecting something, someone." Running her fingertips along the arm of her chair, Cuddy looked up and made direct eye contact with him. "It was you… So many times I nearly picked up the phone and rang you just so I could hear your voice, and it made me think if I can't last a week without having you around now, how am I supposed to deal with that on a permanent basis?"

Closing his eyes, House rubbed the back of his hand against his forehead in desperation. She was telling him what he wanted to hear, but he had no idea if she'd thought this through properly.

"This can't work if you're constantly looking over your shoulder, waiting for me to do something."

"I'm not scared of you!" Cuddy exclaimed in response. "What you did is _never_ going to be ok, but you've been punished enough for it…. I don't think you're stupid enough to jeopardise what we have this time. It's too special and it means too much to both of us for either of us to screw it up again."

For what seemed like a long time House sat in silence just staring at her, to the point she was scared he was getting cold feet.

"So this means…?" he finally asked quietly.

"This means I love you and I want you back."

Hearing her voice crack and seeing her eyes beginning to glisten, House turned to the therapist who'd been watching them intently throughout the exchange.

"What do we do now?"

Raising her eyebrows and sitting forward again, Wendy beamed widely at the pair of them.

"Well you could try asking her out on a date…"

* * *

Tucking the elastic on the surgical mask behind his ears, House reached out with his cane, banged on the front door and waited until Cuddy answered it in her dressing gown. Rolling her eyes she took the mask off his face and stepped aside to let him in.

"I told you we're not contagious."

"Yeah you say that, but...," House cracked back, observing her drawn features. She looked completely washed out.

"I rang around. Everybody who ate the prawns feels like this. It is food poisoning."

"Who has prawns at kid's party?"

In response Cuddy shrugged her shoulders and walked to the staircase so she could drop onto the second step.

"I'm sorry about tonight," she managed weakly, her head resting heavily in her hand as she looked at him apologetically.

"There'll be other nights." Closing the gap between them he leant down and pecked her on the cheek and instinctively felt her forehead for a temperature with the back of his hand. "Even if I am gutted I'm not tucking into a big, juicy steak right now at Barney's."

Straight away Cuddy paled and took a deep breath.

"Can we please not talk about food?"

"Still being sick?" he inquired with genuine concern. She was rarely ill and he knew for her to phone him and him to come round she must really be suffering.

"Every time I think we've all stopped it happens again."

Taking his jacket off, House hung it up and pulled a package out from the inside pocket.

"Go up," he urged, holding up the packet he'd brought from the pharmacy. "I'll bring the supplies in a minute."

Nodding, Cuddy got to her feet and slowly walked up to the stairs as he headed into the kitchen.

* * *

Stopping in the doorway to her bedroom House took in the scene before him, and smirked to himself. With only the TV as a light source Cuddy was sat on the bed, her back against the headboard with Jacob sprawled out on her lap, one hand clutched tightly to the leg of her pyjama shorts, whilst Rachel sat cross-legged at the foot of the bed, fully absorbed in the cartoons that were on the screen. Noticing him at the door the little girl smiled.

"Hey little lady," he exclaimed, covering the distance between them and offering his fist for her to bump, which she duly did, if a little more pathetically than usual. Perching on the side of the bed next to Jacob and his Mother he worriedly observed the little boy and pushed a lock of his dark, damp hair from his forehead. "Hey buddy." Not having the energy to respond Jacob just smiled back weakly, prompting House to pull the beaker from his pocket and hand and offer it to his son.

"Not thirsty," he protested, pushing it away with his fingertips.

"It'll make you feel better," House countered reassuringly. "You need to replace all the fluids you've lost, or you'll shrivel up like a raisin." As if it was against his better judgement the three year old frowned and took the cup, sipping the contents as Cuddy ran a comforting finger along the side of his cheek. "Rach, you need to drink some of this too," he said softly, twisting his body in her direction and retrieving a second beaker from his other pocket.

"It's in a baby beaker. I'm not a baby," Rachel retorted adamantly, her nose turning up at the lidded cup he was holding out for her to take. As sickly as she looked, she'd evidently lost none of her wilfulness and her determination to be treated like a grown up.

"I know," House shrugged. "It was just the easiest way for me to get it up the stairs."

Glancing ruefully at his bad leg, the seven year old took the drink.

"Thank you," she murmured back with a mixture of genuine gratitude and weariness, her mouth tentatively locking around the holes as she took a gulp of the mixture.

Turning back to Cuddy, he grinned and proceeded to pull a spoon and a small sachet out of his shirt pocket.

"And you, _Mom_, get to see the chef at work."

Soliciting a chuckle from her, he opened the packet and poured the powdered contents into the glass of water she kept on the nightstand, swirling the solution with the spoon and handing it to her when it had dissolved.

"Cheers!" Cuddy said sarcastically and took a drink, grimacing slightly at the manufactured flavour of the electrolytes in the water, before placing the glass back down next to her.

"Mom!" a little voice suddenly piped up, causing her to look past House at her daughter.

"What's up sweetie?"

Even in the limited light of the room it was plain to see that the colour had drained from Rachel's face as she swung round to face them and looked as if she was about to cry.

"I think I'm gonna be sick."

Catching Cuddy's eye, House saw her mouth a "please" and he sighed, grabbing the little girl as fast as he could and hobbling with her into the bathroom. He'd almost made it to the toilet when she put her hand over mouth and started throwing up over his shoulder, prompting him to set her down on the tiled floor and move her hair out of the way as she continued to be sick over the bowl. A minute or two passed and Rachel seemed to calm down enough for him to get a damp cloth and wipe her face and then dab at the small area of his shirt that was soiled.

"I'm sorry," Rachel said pitiably, her reddened eyes looking up at where he was wiping as she sank onto the cold floor beneath her.

Instantly House felt sorry for her. He'd spent enough time as an adult slouched over a toilet bowl to know that it wasn't a pleasant experience, let alone for a child. Sitting on the edge of the bath he looked down at her and smiled.

"It's just a shirt," he shrugged. "You feel like you're going to be sick again?"

"I don't think so… Am I gonna die?"

"No kiddo, you're not going to die…" He bit his lip to stop himself from laughing, and decided to assure her a little more. "You'll go to sleep tonight and you'll feel way better in the morning."

"Really?" Rachel probed, not seeming entirely convinced.

"Trust me, I used to be a doctor."

"Why aren't you a doctor anymore?"

To say it was an awkward question for half past eight on a Sunday evening was an understatement. Pausing for second to consider his answer, House settled on broad brush strokes.

"Oh _lots _of reasons!"

"Didn't you like being a doctor anymore?" she persisted, making him wonder if she was a budding journalist in the making.

"I liked it a lot… Maybe too much." Rachel frowned at his answer, so he tried to elaborate in a way she'd understand. "You know how you really like ice cream, but Mom tells you, you can't have too much or you'll be sick?"

"Uh-huh."

"Well I used to like figuring out what was wrong with people so much that I forgot to look after myself properly." Of course it was an oversimplification of the personal implications of his medical career, but in general terms it was accurate enough to be an honest response.

"Mom works at the hospital all the time too," the little girl countered worriedly.

"Yeah but your Mom's got you to look after her when she comes home."

Shifting her gaze lower to his thigh, Rachel stared thoughtfully at it and then regained eye contact with him.

"I could look after you too," she said sincerely.

For a moment House was taken aback. Even though Cuddy wasn't her biological mother her daughter exhibited a number of her character traits, and compassion was one of them. She and her brother had fights like any siblings, but if Jacob had bumped his head or scraped his knee, nine times out of ten Rachel would drop what she was doing and go to console him to the point where he'd throw an even bigger tantrum the times she wasn't at home. Often his son seemed to need his sister when he was ill or injured in the same way he'd needed Cuddy when he was hurt, and it seemed odd being privy to a mirror image of an element of their complicated relationship on a smaller scale. Now the little girl was offering him the same kind of consideration and he was genuinely touched by it.

"How about we look out for each other, eh?"

Nodding weakly as her eyelids began to droop shut and her head tilt forward, House decided to get up and pick her up, placing her head on the shoulder that was still clean, and carrying her back into the bedroom.

"C'mon sleepyhead," he said softly as he threw back the covers on the bed and laid Rachel down next to her brother, who was already fast asleep at the side of Cuddy. Pulling the bedding back over them both, he then brushed the hair out of their faces and smirked at them. Even a miserable bastard like him had to admit they were cute.

"Night," House practically whispered, not expecting a response as he began to step away.

"Night, Daddy," came a tiny voice that made eyes his snap down to Rachel in shock. She'd never called him it before, and he certainly hadn't encouraged her to no matter how fond he was of her. Entirely unaware of the look of bafflement on the face of the man who was stood above her, the seven year old shifted onto her front and proceeded to fall into a deep sleep.

"She's exhausted and she hears Jacob calling you it all the time," Cuddy explained, sensing how awkward he felt. "If she does it again I'll have a word with her."

Somewhat appeased House felt the need to address another matter.

"Have you got anything I can wear? Rachel spewed on me."

"I think I've got one of your t-shirts in the top drawer," she replied, gesturing towards the chest of drawers.

Opening it and finding it amongst her nightwear, House closed it again and turned towards his girlfriend, his eyes narrowing as he held out the grey garment in question.

"I've been looking for this for months."

"You left it here when Jacob spilled some milk on you."

"Have you been wearing it to bed?" The light from the television illuminated his face, as he raised an eyebrow inquisitively.

"Maybe," Cuddy responded, a coy grin lifting the corners of her mouth.

Tutting, House rested the t-shirt on the side and began to unbutton his soiled shirt, slipping it off his arms, rolling it in a ball and throwing it in the bathroom so it was out of the way. On the way back he felt a pair of eyes unashamedly raking over the naked top half of his body.

"Pervert!" he jibed, pulling the t-shirt over his head and around his torso.

"There's no harm in looking."

Sighing in frustration that he couldn't kiss her the way he wanted to, his mind leapt back to a couple of days earlier and the embrace they'd shared in her car straight after their therapy session. A long, lingering kiss that had silently expressed a whole gamut of emotions including relief, happiness and love, both of them oblivious to the rest of the world for lengthy minutes as they reacquainted themselves with one another. Sitting next to her on the bed, he settled for holding her hand.

"Well, I've had better first dates," House said cheekily. "Although it's not the first time someone's thrown up on me."

Rolling her eyes at him, she laced her fingers through her boyfriend's. Knowing his track record he was probably telling the truth.

"We'll do something soon, I promise. Julia asked if she can take the kids next weekend so we'd have the place to ourselves…" Nervously she paused for a second. "It'll also give us a chance to come up with a plan of action for telling the kids about us… And my sister."

Groaning slightly, House rubbed his hand over his face. He was dreading this as much for Cuddy as for himself.

"I guess that gives me time to invest in a bullet proof vest, and for you to come up with a good enough reason why you shouldn't be sectioned."

"It'll be ok," she responded, squeezing his hand.

"It won't, but we'll deal with it." Not wishing to dwell on it right now, he gave her a cheeky grin. "In the meantime we get to make out like a pair of teenagers when we think no-one's looking." Leaning in he kissed her on the lips, and reluctantly pulled away. "I should leave and let you guys get some rest."

"Stay!" Cuddy protested.

Gesturing with his head towards the two sound asleep children next to her, he looked at her sceptically.

"And how's that going to work?"

"I don't know," the Dean of Medicine admitted, too tired to think of anything.

Seeing how shattered she appeared to be House knew he'd feel guilty if he left her to deal with the two kids, who could easily be sick again during the night.

"I could sleep on the floor."

"What about your leg?"

"I'll live," he retorted, already up and reaching for the spare blanket and pillow that was on top of the wardrobe, before throwing them down on the floor next to the bed and kicking his sneakers off. Allowing him to get settled on the floor before she turned the TV off, Cuddy slipped under the bed covers and flipped onto her side so she could see the vague outline of him below her.

"You ok?"

"Uh-huh," he confirmed. "Except for being slightly worried you'll get up during the night, forget I'm here and accidently stand on my balls." Letting out a snort that was loud enough to make Jacob shift around in the bed, Cuddy waited and then bent down to playfully tap House on his arm in reprimand, only for her hand to be intercepted and a chaste kiss to be planted on the back. For some time they lay in a comfortable silence until House felt the need to say something. "You're taking the day off tomorrow."

"I can't!"

"Yes you can," he said insistently, despite his soft tone. "They can cope without you for one day… Rachel should stay off school too. I'll get up with them and you can have a lie in."

"Aren't you teaching tomorrow?" Cuddy asked, afraid he'd be shirking his responsibilities at the University.

"Not until the afternoon and just for an hour," House clarified. "I can be there and back here within a couple of hours."

Smiling to herself that he intended to come back straight afterwards and see that they were alright, she felt relieved and a tiny bit giddy that he was planning to spend the majority of the day with all of them without being prompted. Years ago she'd have never even imagined him being so eager to take care of her and her children.

"If it was more appropriate and I had more energy, I'd climb down there and do unspeakable things to you right now."

Stretching out lazily and putting one hand behind his head, the man on the floor stared at the ceiling and beamed. It never failed to amaze him that she really was just as attracted to him as he was to her.

"Oh it'll keep," he said evenly, sensing her grin was just as wide as his in the darkness. "Now get to sleep woman!"

For a few seconds she didn't say anything, making him suspect she'd already nodded off.

"You know this new bossy vibe you've got going on is kind of sexy," Cuddy teased.

Expending the air from his lungs in a long frustrated exhale, the object of her taunt turned away from her and tried to get comfortable, thankful that the floor was carpeted at least.

"Goodnight," he breathed, plumping his pillow and closing his eyes.

"Night House" she whispered back. "I'm glad you're here."

Absently she ran her hand down his back and closed her own eyes, almost instantly falling into a restful sleep.

* * *

Watching her deliberately sway her hips exaggeratedly for his benefit, House eyed Cuddy up and down as she walked a few steps in front of him down the hotel corridor. None of this was planned. They'd gone out for dinner, enjoyed the food and each other's company and then when he'd asked her if she wanted dessert she'd given him a look that he knew meant one thing. The next thing he knew he'd paid for the meal and they were booking themselves into a room at the hotel next door to the restaurant; her credit card sliding across the counter at the reception desk, as she whispered into his ear how much she wanted him.

Stopping when she found their room, Cuddy turned to see where he was and swept the keycard down the lock, pushing the handle down and opening the door slightly, waiting until his hand covered hers against the wood. Pushing the door fully open they stepped inside and took in the opulence of the room, House's arm circling around her waist possessively as his chin rested on her bare shoulder. Sure it was expensive, but she wanted their first night together as a proper couple to be special and this place really was. The elegant décor, the beautifully crafted furniture and the breath-taking view over the Bay through the floor to ceiling windows were perfect. Besides she rarely did things this extravagant, and this was more than a good enough excuse to spend some of her hard earned cash.

"We could have been back at yours in twenty minutes," House mumbled feeling self-conscious that she'd just blown that much money on them.

Unlocking his grip from around her she turned to him and encircled her arms around his back, smiling as once again she realised how much of an effort he'd made before he picked her up. Dress pants, cologne and he'd even ironed a shirt. Cuddy wasn't even aware he owned an iron, let alone that he knew how to use one.

"I wanted tonight to be special," she replied sincerely and it was the truth. The last time they'd gotten together had been so chaotic that she wanted something different. Something that didn't involve the death of a patient, a near relapse and the dumping of a fiancée. "Besides, I realised that we've never had sex in a hotel room and I wanted to change that."

House raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

"Should I be making a list of all the places we've never had sex, so we can tick them off as we go along?" Seeing her amusedly roll her eyes, he placed his hands either side of her waist and frowned. He wanted them to have sex; how could he not? He'd had to stop his mouth from gaping open the moment she'd opened the front door and held out her hand for him to escort her to the car. She always looked beautiful, but Cuddy in a red dress and heels had never failed to do funny things to him. Right now he couldn't be sure if things were moving too fast though. "Is this too soon? I mean we could wait for a bit."

"For two people who've known each other for twenty five years, and already have a kid? I'm gonna say no," she responded wryly, moving his hands from her waist and onto her ass. "I'm sick of waiting House. I'm getting laid tonight."

Internally he was jumping up and down for joy, but outwardly he kept his demeanour cool and collected for the time being. They both loved playing this game.

"Anyone I know?" he asked with mock curiosity.

She nodded and pushed his jacket off his shoulders and onto the floor, her hands starting to undo the buttons on his shirt in quick succession.

"It's just some guy I've known for ages."

"And what's so good about this guy?" House questioned, watching with interest as she untucked his shirt from his pants.

His girlfriend shrugged and stopped what she was doing as she maintained her poker face.

"He's really smart. I don't know anybody more intelligent. He makes me laugh too… He's also got a really huge…" And just like that she stopped, leaving the remaining word a mystery.

"A really huge what?" he pressed. Already she was killing him.

Bringing his head down to her mouth, she whispered slowly into his ear, her breath making the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

"A really, really huge ego."

Pulling away she saw the expression on his face, and finally allowed herself to smirk at him. He was wearing his 'game on' expression and she knew she was going to enjoy this.

"I hear this guy has got something else that's pretty impressive too," House eventually shot back, now removing his shirt himself and throwing it on the chair to the side of them.

"Is that so?"

"Uh-huh," he nodded, reaching behind her again and torturously slowly unzipping her dress, as his fingertips on his other hand traced a route down the newly exposed skin on her back and made her shiver.

"Then prove it," Cuddy challenged, her blue eyes meeting his in a way that never ceased to make his stomach flip over. In that moment he couldn't help but think how perfect she was. Not necessarily in a generic sense, but for him nobody could even come close. She was perfect for him and always would be.

"Oh trust me I will!"

Slipping the dress off her shoulders he kissed her mouth gently, a sweet embrace that was a prelude of what was to come, before pushing her clothing further down her body and watching as the material pooled on the carpet around her ankles, and they both kicked off their shoes. Taking in the sight in front of him of Cuddy in her bra and panties, he bit his lip to stop himself from audibly groaning and felt himself grow harder. The easy option would be to just push her on the bed, climb on top of her and for them to make love until they were both screaming out each other's names. He was sure she'd be up for that too, but he was determined to make this special for her, even if it did require a little bit of self-restraint on his part for the time being.

Inching them to the side of the bed as he nuzzled into her neck, House delicately positioned her in the centre of the king-sized bed and quickly joined her, his knees either side of her hips as he leant down and claimed her lips in a raw, passionate kiss that made both their heads swim. Finally pulling away he began to move his mouth lower, feathering light pecks down her neck, between her breasts and then her abdomen as she moaned appreciatively. Hooking his fingers into the sides of her panties, he shifted lower on the bed and slid them off her legs, prior to throwing them on the floor.

"I want you," Cuddy murmured, her thighs parting in invitation as she brazenly eyed the bulge in his pants and licked her lips.

"All good things…," he responded mischievously, resting her ankles on his shoulders and gently rubbing his stubble against the tops of her thighs as his fingers sought her aroused core.

Instantly she closed her eyes and arched her back, a tiny whimper escaping her when she felt his thumb circle her clit and two of his fingers curl up inside of her, insistently touching the spot that drove her crazy. She'd wanted his hands on her for so long, she'd even dreamt about it, but _nothing _felt like the real thing and she was beginning to wonder how and why she'd held out for so long.

"Oh fuck!" she breathed as she felt his tongue replace his thumb, her hands grasping tightly onto the cover beneath her.

Soon the muscles in her legs began to quake, a white hot heat shooting through the length of her body as she heard herself groan his name like she was listening to a third party. For some time she just laid there with her eyes closed, sensing House lie down next to her and enjoying the sensation of him rubbing his palm over her stomach soothingly, whilst her breathing returned to normal. Eventually blinking her eyes open she turned onto her side and was greeted with her boyfriend looking exceptionally pleased with himself.

"So you've decided to come back down to Earth?"

"For the time being," Cuddy retorted, pushing him onto his back without much resistance and undoing the clasp and the zip on his pants, shuffling them down his legs until she was able to throw them nonchalantly over her shoulder. "Somebody still has something to show me."

Running her hand up the length of him through his shorts, she smirked to herself when he audibly gasped, and stopped to free him from the constraints of his remaining garment. Now he was completely naked she couldn't help but stare at the prize.

"I told you it was impressive," House cracked.

Swinging one leg over him, Cuddy reached behind her back and unclasped her bra sending it the way of the rest of their clothes and then encircled his cock with her hand, not taking her eyes off his as she gave it a few cursory strokes from the hilt to the tip.

"Size isn't everything House," she rejoined, her expression dead-pan as she teased the tip of him against the wet lips between her legs and looked on in satisfaction as he gulped hard. "But then everybody lies."

Sinking down on top of him, the ache between her thighs was just the right side of pain as she adjusted to the size of him. Bending over so her breasts lightly grazed his chest, she tentatively kissed him and began a slow rhythm with her hips that House responded to by gripping onto her waist. Breaking the contact between their mouths, she sat up slightly and pressed her hands against his chest, starting to up the pace.

"You're mine now," she whispered, an assertion that sounded as if it was mid-way between a question and a statement of fact.

"I always was," House responded, his eyes searching hers for a similar sentiment which he duly got. "I always will be. You're stuck with me now."

Smiling back at him, she confided how much she loved him and how nobody ever made her feel like this until neither of them were able to form coherent sentences anymore; her nails ultimately digging into his chest as she found her release and then took him with her, their slick bodies still joined and entwined until their heartbeats stopped racing up until Cuddy eventually rolled off him.

For a long time neither of them said anything. They just laid side by side in a comfortable, practically elatory silence questioning the reality of the situation they found themselves in. Their incredulity wasn't about the sex, they'd always been more than capable of satisfying one another, but had more to do with the fact that this time things really did feel different. There was no longer any conflict of interest between their personal and private lives; no lingering worry on her part that he was on the verge of a relapse at any minute; and no real sense that this couldn't work. They'd fought hard for this relationship and the fact that there was a genuine reason to feel optimistic about their future was new to both of them.

Moving over onto her side, Cuddy placed her hand on House's chest and frowned. One thing had been bothering her ever since he'd mentioned it during their therapy session.

"That person you said you were scared of," she ventured cautiously. "It was your Dad wasn't it? Did he hurt you?"

Sighing deeply he ran his hand over his face. He'd expected her to pick up on that at some point, but not necessarily minutes after they'd just finished having sex.

"Can we not do this now?"

"I'd never think any less of you," she insisted, concerned he thought it would somehow change or diminish in her eyes.

Turning to face her, he caught hold of her hand and observed the worry in her features.

"It's not that. It's just I'd rather not bring all that crap into this room. Not after tonight has been so perfect."

"You can tell me about it whenever you want" Cuddy implored. Watching him nod his head sadly she took a tangential leap. "You're a great Dad, you know?"

"Really?"

"Really," she repeated. "Jacob loves you."

Smirking at her, he cast his mind back to the first day he'd met their son.

"I used to think he hated me."

"_Shockingly_ he's slow to warm up to people, but when he does he can't leave them alone. I wonder who he gets that from, huh?"

"You obviously," House quipped back, causing her to lightly tap his arm in reprimand.

"Rachel's pretty fond of you too."

"I can't help being irresistible to the Cuddy women," he shrugged casually. "Especially your sister. All that pent up rage is actually unresolved sexual tension, but it's buried so deep down that not even she knows it."

"I should tell her that."

"Please don't," he begged half-seriously. "I like my balls still attached and I'm guessing you do too." Enjoying the sound of his girlfriend's sexy chuckle, he steered the conversation back to where it was before he started joking about Julia. "Rachel's a cool kid… I missed her too after we broke up."

"We can't treat her differently to Jacob though. I don't want her feeling like she was never as important when she grows up, because she's not biologically our child."

House couldn't deny this was an awkward situation. Rachel understandably still felt like Cuddy's daughter, and legally she was, but that didn't mean he had any intention of shunning her. All too well he knew what it was to be rejected because you didn't share half your genes with someone who was responsible for you, and he had no intention of inflicting that same emotional pain on someone he'd grown to care about.

"Then we won't," he said simply.

Out of relief Cuddy exhaled sharply. She'd expected this to be more difficult.

"You're amazing," she told him genuinely.

"I've been telling you that for years."

"And yet modesty has never been never been your strong suit." Sitting up, she tugged on his hand and pulled him with her to the edge of the bed. "Come on."

"Where are we going?" he asked, the lines on his forehead furrowing in confusion.

Getting to her feet, she stood in front of him as he perched on the side of the bed.

"The receptionist mentioned something about a marble bath."

"Really?" he inquired, happily following her as she led him to the bathroom. "I was too busy checking out your ass in that dress."


	15. Chapter 15

_A massive thanks to everybody who took the time to read and review the last chapter. It really is much appreciated that you guys are continuing to engage with my mad ramblings so far into the story. _

_As a little side note to the reviewer (and anybody else) who's interested if I'm going to dig deeper into Cuddy's psyche and her inner demons that contributed to the break up in Season 7, the answer is a resounding "hell yes!" The next chapter will be a big one to look out for on that front, but for now I needed to let a few things settle and a few other 'complications' rise to the surface._

_Bit nervous about this one. When I first started planning this story I never imagined it would take me here, but the characters seem to want to go there, and who am I to argue?! _

_Only 3 chapters to go! Any predictions for the end? Plane crashes? Amputations? Foreman turning up after finding Jesus? Wilson, having faked his death, coming back disguised as a ghost at Rachel's Scooby Doo themed birthday party? ;)_

_I don't trivialise destructive behaviour, therefore I'm not affiliated with the show. I just borrow some of the characters._

* * *

Closing the door behind himself as silently as he could manage, House slowly placed his bag down on the hallway floor and removed his sneakers, thinking how oddly eerie the place seemed when it was this still and quiet. After hanging his jacket and cane up on _his _hook he crept up the stairs and made his way towards the door that was slightly ajar, opening it and then grinning deviously as he took in the sight before him. Cuddy was fast asleep on her back, her dark curls splayed across her pillow as one hand rested on top of the covers and the other sought out his side of the bed. After a minute or two he stepped into the bedroom and gently shut the door, glancing at the digital display on the alarm clock. It was nearly five am. Back in Princeton that would have been the time she got up, but these days her closer proximity to the hospital allowed her to stay in bed a little longer. Smiling to himself as he realised they had half an hour, House tiptoed to the bed and got under the covers feeling even more pleased with himself when he saw she'd raided his t-shirt drawer to look for something to wear for bed. Evidently she'd missed him last night too.

Subconsciously sensing him there, Cuddy rolled onto her side and threw her leg over him with a satisfied sigh, making him groan in appreciation. They hadn't had sex in more than forty-eight hours and he was more than ready to let nature take its course. Bending his head down towards her, he gently kissed the corner of her mouth at first, until she instinctively tilted her face towards him so he had better access, his tongue lightly grazing her lip before she opened up to him and kissed back. Pulling away for a second he rested his forehead against hers, and revelled in the sensation of being this close to her again.

"Happy birthday," he whispered, not giving her the chance to reply before claiming her mouth in a more bruising embrace this time, smoothing his palm up and down the exposed part of her thigh at the same time.

Suddenly feeling her hand on his chest as she pushed him away, House jerked his head back and saw her eyes flicker open in confusion.

"Wait a minute. You're not supposed to be here."

"You're right. I'm a hallucination," he responded matter-of-factly. "My advice is to just go with the flow.

When he leaned in to kiss her again, she moved her head and frowned at him.

"You're supposed to be in New York delivering your paper today."

From the look on her face he knew there was no point in lying or delaying telling her the truth. This wasn't going any further unless he owned up.

"I may or may not have paid someone else to deliver it for me."

"House!" Cuddy straight away chided. This was hardly unexpected though. She'd been more surprised when he'd reluctantly agreed to go in the first place at the insistence of his supervisor.

"Oh come on!" he protested. "I should at least get some points for travelling all night so I could be back for your birthday."

Seeing his features arrange themselves into those of a scolded child, she couldn't help but soften. It was a pretty romantic, if foolish, thing to do.

"I'm just worried your department will kick you off the PhD programme if you're not careful."

"Nobody is getting kicked off the course," he said firmly. Seeing she was still not entirely convinced, he moved his hand up to her face and cupped her cheek. "I was surrounded by hundreds of nerds, who are even more socially inept than me for two days. I also happened to miss my girlfriend and the two midgets we keep as pets. Sue me!"

Rolling her eyes she couldn't help but smile broadly at him. The house had felt strange without him chasing the kids around the living room, or singing loudly in the kitchen when it was his turn to cook. Initially she'd worried asking him to move in was too much after only a few months together, but his absence over the past couple of days had confirmed it wasn't.

"Did you meet up with Danny?"

"Uh-huh!"

"And how was he?"

"Fine," House answered disinterestedly, briefly looking past her at the clock. "Listen, can we talk about Wilson's brother later?"

"Why?"

With a mischievous look he snaked his hand between them and crept his fingertips under the t-shirt she was wearing.

"Because I want to send my girlfriend to work with a smile on her face," he said evenly, his eyes full of mischief.

Rapidly realising just how appealing that sounded, Cuddy closed the gap between them and kissed him hungrily.

"I missed you too," she mumbled when their mouths finally parted, her hand just about to unbuckle his belt when they heard the familiar sound of a door opening and small feet pitter-pattering along the landing. Hearing House groan in despair, she kissed him chastely on the cheek and smiled. "We'll finish this later."

Sitting up, they adjusted themselves just in time before the door swung open and Rachel ran in, depressingly full of beans considering the early hour of the day.

"Happy birthday, Mom!" the little girl proclaimed, as she climbed on the bed and practically threw herself at her Mother forcing Cuddy to swiftly move so they didn't butt heads.

"Thanks sweetie."

Watching Rachel tightly squeezing her Mom, House smirked and nudged her.

"So where's my hug?"

"It's not your birthday," she retorted adamantly.

"Fine," he responded with mock sadness, seeing a quick flash of guilt flicker across her eyes before she realised he was joking. "I'm just going to have to tickle you until you give in."

Grabbing her from her Mom, he flipped her over and began tickling her tummy, provoking infectious shrieks of laughter as she wriggled around and tried to get away. Looking on Cuddy couldn't help but feel overjoyed that they were getting on so well. Him making her giggle wildly like this was about a million miles away from the guy she'd first dated actively avoiding her daughter at all costs. It was no longer the case that Rachel was a part of the deal that had to be endured. She _knew _that he cared about her now, and that the feeling was mutual. Most of the time she still called him House, but every so often she'd slip and call him Daddy and he wouldn't correct her, either because he didn't notice it or it didn't bother him.

Out of the corner of her eye Cuddy noticed some movement in the doorway, and turned to see Jacob forlornly rubbing his eyes.

"Morning baby," she said warmly, holding her arms out as the pair next to her settled down.

Making his way towards her, the little boy clambered onto the bed and rested his head on her shoulder, still half asleep as he watched his sister loll back comfortably against his Dad. Knowing full well his son shared his hatred of early mornings, House attempted to cheer him up by sticking his tongue out at him. Immediately amused Jacob smirked and responded in kind.

"Oh God I have _three_ kids!" Cuddy said in exasperation, sighing as her boyfriend stuck his tongue out at her and her two children felt the need to copy him. "Come on you two! Go downstairs and decide what you want for breakfast. I'll be down in a minute."

Shuffling off the bed, they trundled out of the room and barrelled down the stairs, as she turned to House and pecked him on the cheek.

"You should get some sleep," she told him, her legs swinging from under the covers and finding the floor just as his hand playfully swatted her ass.

"I'd have slept better if I knew you were leaving well and truly satisfied."

"Yeah, because you weren't going to get anything out of that were you?" she replied sardonically.

Leisurely House stretched his legs under the covers, yawned and then folded his arms behind his head as he grinned wolfishly at the woman standing next to the bed.

"I am the guy that keeps on giving… Which reminds me, presents later if you're good."

"I'm always good," Cuddy re-joined, walking towards the door and trying to conceal the smirk on her face. Just as she was about to exit the room she seemed to remember something and stepped back, turning to look at him again. "By the way Julia, Mike and the kids are all coming over tonight. Seen as you're in such a generous mood I thought maybe you could start cooking dinner before I get back."

Groaning in horror and frustration, House narrowed his eyes into tiny slits and scowled at her. He was tempted to ask if he could hide out in the bedroom and watch TV, but he knew that wouldn't go down well, especially on her birthday.

"It's a good job I like you."

"Thank you," she said sincerely, and was again about to walk away when something else crossed her mind. "No sleeping tablets this time, House."

"I can't make any promises!" he cracked back and was instantly greeted with a look that could curdle milk. "Ok! Ok! I'll play nice… Go and feed the kids before they start gnawing on the furniture."

Taking the hint Cuddy nodded and closed the door behind her, leaving him alone and staring at the ceiling when the alarm at the side of him buzzed and he was forced to switch it off. Suddenly feeling his tiredness catching up with him, his last thought before closing his eyes was that domesticity wasn't all that bad.

* * *

"So that was fun!" House said with sarcastic joviality as he dried a plate and put it away. "My favourite part was when your sister pretended to choke as soon you told her I'd cooked dinner."

"Mike's warming to you. She'll come round eventually," Cuddy responded reassuringly, scrubbing another plate and handing it to him.

"I wouldn't bank on it."

"Does it bother you?"

"I've spent most of my adult life with people despising me. It's par for the course." However he knew this wasn't as straight forward for her. He'd been there when they first told Julia that they'd gotten back together and it wasn't pretty. Things were said and they hadn't spoken for a few weeks until her sister had decided to offer an olive branch in the form of a phone call. Even so their relationship was still strained and that was all because of him. "I know it bothers you though."

"She's just going to have to get used to us being together," Cuddy replied quietly, trying hard not to let him see how weary and drained she felt being stuck in the middle of two people she loved, but who couldn't stand each other. Letting the water drain away she looked for something to distract her and settled on the semi demolished cake on the counter, smiling to herself as she imagined House slaving away in the kitchen that afternoon. "Nobody's made me a birthday cake since I was about 12… My Dad's Mom used to make them for us and then after she died we just had ones my Mom bought."

Scrutinising his own handiwork, he frowned.

"I wanted to pipe an anatomically correct heart on the top, but Rachel insisted on flowers and balloons because she's a girl… Speaking of which, where is she?" House asked, craning his neck to see if she was in the living room.

"Rachel's playing in her room, Jacob's out there."

Watching his girlfriend gesture with her head out the kitchen window, House looked out and saw his son sat on the patio, his legs parted slightly as he rolled his tennis ball along the ground and waited for it to bounce back off the exterior wall. He seemed preoccupied until he noticed his parents staring at him and promptly got up, taking the ball with him as he headed towards the playhouse, ducked inside and closed the door behind him.

"He's been quiet all evening… What's up?"

"Something happened while you were away," Cuddy said evenly not wanting to alarm him, but doing so anyway.

"Is he alright?"

"He's fine, but his teacher rang me yesterday."

Visibly relieved that it was probably something trivial, his whole posture relaxed. Walking to the fridge he grabbed a bottle of beer and then fumbled for something to open it with in the drawer, mumbling a "thank you" when Cuddy put her hand in and found the opener for him.

"Did he pull someone's hair or something?" he inquired light-heartedly, popping the lid on his drink and placing it on the side, only for her to pick it up and put it in the bin. Her cleaning up after him was nothing new, but he knew this time it was a delay tactic rather real concern for the cleanliness of her kitchen. Finally standing in front of him again, she decided to bite the bullet.

"He tried to kiss one of the other children in his class."

"Is this what this is about?" He literally had no idea why she was getting so tense over something so small. "Admittedly he's starting a little younger than I did, but clearly he takes after me."

"Not exactly," she breathed. "It was another boy."

"Oh," was the only word House found himself able to form. _That_ he hadn't expected.

"It could just be a phase."

From her body language he knew she was just trying to qualify it for his benefit.

"But you don't think it is?"

Biting her lip nervously, she shook her head. Their son was far too young to know for definite, but her gut feeling was that this wasn't just a passing whim that he'd acted on. The conversation she'd had with him after she'd taken the call, when he simply told her he'd done it because he didn't want to kiss any of the girls, had only confirmed that for her. It didn't really bother her, but she'd been anxious about broaching the subject with House. It wasn't that she thought he was genuinely homophobic. Sure he made snide comments now and again, but there was no real malice behind them. Nevertheless this was unchartered territory, and she had no idea how he'd react.

"Is this a problem?"

Sighing, her boyfriend took another swig of his beer and set the bottle down on the counter.

"Honestly?" he inquired, drawing a tentative nod from her as she eyed him searchingly. "As long as he's happy and healthy I don't care… I guess there are worse cities to grow up in if you have an unhealthy fascination with musicals and cowboys."

"Jacob likes cars and watching things blow up, _as you well know_," she retorted defensively. On numerous occasions she'd found the pair of them cheering and clapping loudly as they watched one cartoon character exterminate another with a stick of dynamite or a makeshift bomb. In so many ways he was a typical boy. Perhaps he was more acutely sensitive to the people around him, but certainly no more so than his Father if he allowed his defences to drop down.

"You say that and yet he's sat in a pink playhouse sulking."

Not amused, Cuddy scowled at him.

"Are you going to tease him about this?"

"No more than I tease Rachel about being the bossiest kid on the planet," he quipped, closing the gap between them and circling his arms around her before snaking one hand down to grope her backside. "Or you about having a huge ass."

Not in the mood she clutched his wrists and moved them back to his own sides, taking a step back so she could get a better view of his face.

"I'm serious House. I don't want him growing up thinking this means there's something wrong with him."

"Seen as your sarcasm detector appears to be broken, for the record I was joking," he spat back heatedly. "I might not quite be able to get my head around why he _may or may not_ want to sleep with men rather than women in the future, but that doesn't mean I think there's anything wrong with him… I know I can be an asshole, but it's not as if I'm one of those religious lunatics who thinks gays should burn in Hell." His anger finally giving way, he regarded her with a look of real sadness. "You really think I'm capable of making him feel like he's not good enough, just because of who he is? After all the crap I dealt with from my Dad?"

Scrunching her eyes shut, Cuddy found herself wincing at the fact that she'd even inferred it. A few weeks after they'd gotten back together their therapist had delved into his childhood during one of their sessions. With tears streaming down her cheeks she'd sat listening to him recount the beatings, the name calling and all the other abuse he'd been subjected to because he didn't meet his Father's exacting, military standards. All she'd wanted to do was hold him and let him know everything was ok, and that night he'd allowed her to, his head resting on her chest as they lay in bed, whilst she ran a comforting hand through his hair until he drifted off to sleep. Idiotically, she'd let her maternal protectiveness cloud her judgement.

"I'm sorry," she said firmly, reaching up and cupping his cheek gently.

"I love him," he croaked, gulping back a lump in his throat and finding her free hand to squeeze as if to underline his declaration.

"I know you do… I'm just so scared he'll feel like he's treated differently. I have no idea how my Mom would react… She'll probably blame me for pandering to him."

"Screw your Mom!" House said loudly, making her eyebrows dart up her forehead in surprise. "If she's got an opinion on how _we_ bring up our kids she can talk to me."

Hearing him refer to them as 'our kids' made her stomach flip over with joy. It was the first time she'd heard him verbally claim ownership of both the children, and it was especially momentous because he'd said it without even having to mull the statement over.

"It's kind of hot when you go all alpha male on me," she said with a smirk.

"Wait until Rachel and Jacob are in bed, and then I'll do my full caveman routine."

"_Oh really_?"

"Yup! Animal skins, bad hair, big club, fire," House joked, joining in when she laughed at him. "I sure know how to show a girl a good time."

"Well I can't complain," Cuddy retorted coyly, biting her lip when he eyed her dangerously and then moving closer to whisper something in his ear. "I'm wearing the present you left for me on the bed. Although technically you're probably going to enjoy it more than I am."

Stepping back she watched him study her as if he wished he had x-ray vision, and chuckled when he let out a strangled groan. After work she'd gone upstairs to freshen up and found a white box with a red bow sat on the bed, and without having to open it she knew exactly what it was. Just before he'd gone away she'd caught him looking at basques on the laptop, which he'd nervously dismissed as just "browsing".

"You've been opening stuff all day. It's only fair I get something to open too," House pouted.

"It's _my_ birthday!"

"And it'll be mine too… Eventually. There's nothing wrong with an early birthday present, Cuddy"

Sighing in exasperation that he'd somehow managed to turn her birthday into a prelude to his, she turned back around and looked out of the window, noticing how dark it had gotten and contemplating going outside to fetch Jacob when her boyfriend stood behind her and rested his head on her shoulder.

"It's a shame that Auntie Jimmy isn't around to give our boy a few pointers about the whole gay scene when he's older," he mused as he looked out onto the garden.

"Wilson wasn't gay."

She knew he wasn't being serious, but went along with it anyway. This was just his way of letting her know he missed his best friend, and that he wished he could have met their son before he died. Cuddy was well aware he felt guilty that he never got the chance to have what he had now. Times like this, when he felt contented and happy, it pricked more than others.

"Anybody who gets married that many times is more interested in the co-ordinated cookware they get for wedding gifts, than the bride."

"When are you two getting married?" inquired a small voice, making them snap their heads round to the vision of Rachel in a wonky pirate hat that was too small, swishing her plastic sword around as if she was intent on defeating an imaginary foe.

Jumping apart they both swung round and leant against the counter, looking to each other for a cue as to what to say and then staring back at the little girl, who was now returning their stares expectantly.

"I don't know, but how do you feel about hot chocolate before bed?" House finally managed in a strained voice, hoping against hope she'd be too distracted by his question to press for an answer to her own.

"Cool!" she chirped back happily and readjusted her hat.

"Go and fetch your brother from the pink palace and I'll see if we've got some marshmallows."

Seeing Rachel skip outside House began searching through the cupboards, avoiding making eye contact with Cuddy as he felt her examining him like she wanted to say something, but didn't know if she should. Eventually she did speak.

"I'm going through there."

"Ok," he responded more bluntly than he'd intended to, dropping the packet on the counter and glimpsing the injured expression on his girlfriend's face, before once more rifling through the shelves. Sensing her leave the room, he picked up the kettle and filled it with water, popping it on the stove as he swore under his breath. He hadn't meant to be such a dick to her, but Rachel's question had thrown him completely. Marriage was something they hadn't discussed since the day he'd proposed to her in prison, and he was intent on avoiding a repeat performance of that disaster.

Leaning against the fridge whilst he waited for the water to boil, he watched Cuddy plump the cushions on the sofa and then look around for something else to do, knowing full well she was searching for something to keep her preoccupied. Feeling a small hand slip into his, he lifted Jacob onto one of the stools and then helped Rachel onto the one next to him, only then realising his heart was thumping in his chest.

* * *

Walking back downstairs after putting the kids to bed, House awkwardly climbed over the back of the sofa and flopped down so his head was on his girlfriend's lap. Pretending not to notice him, Cuddy continued to blankly stare at the TV screen with her jaw set. Evidently, he thought, she was giving him a taste of his own medicine.

"I found this," he declared, pulling a rectangular jewellery box from his pocket and handing it to her.

"Where?"

"In the shop… It's your proper present." Watching her open the box he witnessed the corners of her mouth twitch upwards as she examined the white gold locket inside. A broader smile spread across her features when she saw the tiny pictures of Rachel and Jacob. "It's got the dates they were born engraved on the back. I thought now that you're practically a senior citizen I should write them down somewhere in case you forget."

"You've got ten years on me."

"It's not my fault you have a fetish for old men," he cracked back. "I'm just a willing participant."

Taking the necklace from the box, Cuddy scrutinised it more closely. It really was an exquisite and thoughtful gift, and one that he'd no doubt put a lot of time and effort into looking for. Despite his regular protestations that he wasn't the romantic type, his actions of late had said otherwise.

"It's beautiful… Thank you."

Sitting up, House took it from her and undid the clasp, putting it round her neck as she held her hair out of the way for him.

"You're welcome," he mumbled into her skin as he bent down and kissed her neck, bringing her with him when he sat back and focused on the two women screaming and pointing at each other on the screen, as a bald headed guy with a ridiculously long beard sat nervously in between them and was hurled abuse at by the crowd.

"What are we watching?"

"I have no idea," Cuddy confided honestly, her brow furrowing as one of the women slapped the other and security was brought on the stage to literally carry her off. She hadn't really been paying any attention because her mind had been elsewhere. As the histrionics continued and the host divulged that both women were engaged to the same guy at the same time, she felt House tense up underneath her, and wasn't surprised when he reached for the remote and switched the television off. Seconds ticked by as they sat in silence, the atmosphere heavy with the things they wanted to say, but didn't quite know how to. In the end she sat up and turned to him. "Are we going to talk about this or pretend it never happened?"

"I'm gonna have to go for option B," he said abruptly, making himself look busy by pulling his phone from his pocket and pretending to scroll through his messages.

Grabbing his cell from him his hand, she set it down at the side of her in an effort to stop him from backing away from the conversation. If they left this to fester without talking it through, it'd rear its head again at some point in the future.

"This is going to come up again sooner or later. Rachel might bring it up another time. Maybe Jacob, or it could be one of our Moms… Why not discuss this now?"

"Oh I can think of about a hundred reasons!" he snapped. "Not least of all because I don't want to spend tonight back at the apartment after we have an argument."

Seeing him turn his head away from her to look out the window, she knew his defences were going up and that he was going to be near impossible to get through to. There was only one reason she could think of why he was being like this.

"You weren't serious at all the last time you asked me were you? I mean aside from the fact you were still married to your Russian mail order bride at the time."

"I was still married _then_ because of everything that happened with Wilson. It wasn't intentional…" Resting his head on the back of the sofa, he sighed and his tone softened. "I was losing you. I thought it was what you wanted."

"It was!... _It is,_" Cuddy clarified, nervously tucking her hair behind her ear.

"We've only been together a few months. I've haven't even been living here for a full week."

"We've known each other for more than half our lives, and you practically moved in a couple of days after we got back together. It was only a matter of some of your stuff migrating over here too."

She was of course right. Aside from the two nights he'd spent in New York and a couple of others he'd spent back at his apartment he'd been there constantly. It already felt like home long before she'd formally asked him to move in, and if he was honest with himself, probably before they got their relationship back on track. That didn't mean he was wrong though.

"We're already a family. Is a piece of paper really that important?"

"My sister's convinced that this isn't going to work. That I'm going to end up in worse place than I was before."

"We can't get married just to prove your sister wrong!" he protested indignantly, furious that she was seriously considering letting Julia's misgivings about them dictate their future.

"That's not the reason I want to marry you."

For a long time their eyes locked, neither willing to give any ground until House finally groaned and rubbed his palm over his face in despair. He hadn't expected them to end the day bickering like this.

"What we have right now is really good."

"Yeah, it is," she agreed, her demeanour beginning to betray how upset she really was. "It's also easy to get out of if something better comes along…. Congratulations! You were right. We shouldn't have discussed this."

Wanting to put some distance between them, she got to her feet and walked into the kitchen, holding back the tears on purpose so he wouldn't know how much he'd got to her. As soon as she sat down at the counter the floodgates opened, her shoulders shaking as silent sobs wracked her body. Within seconds she sensed him behind her, and took a deep breath in an attempt to compose herself.

"You're not allowed to cry on your birthday," he eventually piped up, perching on the stool next to her.

"Leave me alone!"

"No," he responded evenly. Not in the mood for his platitudes in that precise moment, Cuddy went to get up but stopped when he grabbed her hand. "I'll follow you around the house if I have to… Just hear me out and then I'll go back to the apartment or sleep in the guest room if you want me to."

"Well?"

Hesitating for a second, he considered backtracking and asking if they could discuss it in the morning, but decided against it. Neither of them would sleep properly, and their tiredness would only compound the situation even more.

"You've always known my thoughts on marriage. I've never kept it a secret that I think most people have no business promising to spend the rest of their lives together, when in reality they can't even manage a couple of years without looking elsewhere."

"So this _is_ about you waiting for something better to come along?" she asked with a knowing sneer.

Grunting loudly and throwing his hands in the air in exasperation, he had no idea why she would even consider that was the case. He'd certainly didn't think he'd given her any reason to.

"No!... I already know I'm never going to find anybody better than you."

"Then why don't you want this as much as I do?" Cuddy pleaded, her eyes searching his for an answer. "And don't give me some bullshit excuse about marriage being a religious institution that you don't respect as an atheist, because I won't buy it... This is about you and me, and what we both want out of this relationship… I need to know if this is something I'm going to have to adjust my expectations over."

Seeing the dejected look on her face, he knew he had to level with her.

"I'm scared… Scared that if we rock the boat and things change too much, I'll lose you again." Clenching his fist, he gulped and dragged his knuckles over the counter top, the sensation as he pressed down hard something else for him focus on so that he wouldn't break down like she just had. "That you'll finally come to your senses and realise your sister's right, because you are punching way below your weight with me, Cuddy, let's be honest."

Instinctively she reached out and grasped his wrist, worried he was going to hurt himself if he pressed any harder.

"How many times do I have to tell you?... I love you. I've loved you for years. I'm always going to be in love with you… You still think you don't deserve to be happy, don't you?"

"There are so many better people out there who don't have half the things I do right now... Every night before I go to sleep, I wonder how long I'm going to be allowed to be this happy." Pausing to let the air filter into his lungs, he brushed his free hand against the back of his neck and sighed. "I know we've been working on this in therapy, but it's still there... Like something I can't see or touch, but it's always there. Just waiting to pounce."

They had talked about this in therapy. Wendy had proposed he should consider going back on the anti-depressants he'd stopped taking not long after checking out of Mayfield, however he'd point blank refused to even think about it. Cuddy knew he hated the side effects, not least of all the fact that they lowered his sex drive, but more than that he was insistent on staying drug free. It was a decision she'd supported at the time, nevertheless now she wondered if it was worth going over again at their next session. They maybe should weigh the pros and cons of him having to rely on another drug again, versus the fact that he wasn't just someone who had a naturally pessimistic worldview, but was prone to bouts of depression that were usually the catalyst for his most destructive behaviour.

"This scares me too, but we can't live our lives waiting for the next bad thing to happen. If we do that we'll end up with so many regrets." Lacing her fingers through his, she gave him a reassuring smile. "I don't know if it's because we're so unbelievably messed up, but I genuinely think what we have is special and incredibly rare… Is it so bad that I want to celebrate that?"

"What if we end up despising each other like both our parents did?"

"We are _not_ our parents," she stressed, not being able to think of an equivocation that was less appropriate. In both cases the hatred had stemmed from apathy and they may have expressed many emotions to one another over the years, but indifference wasn't one of them. "Look House, if this really isn't what you want then I guess I'll just have to get used to the idea. You're right. What we have now is really good."

For a long time he just looked at his girlfriend, marvelling at how far they'd come and that somehow, after everything that had happened between them, she _really_ wanted to marry him. The whole thing seemed so surreal.

"You're really sure you want to wake up to this every morning?" he enquired cheerfully, pointing to his face. "I mean that's potentially forever if stem cell research advances in the next ten years so much that immortality becomes possible."

"I'm game if you are," she shrugged back, a broad grin wending its way across her face.

"In that case, marry me?" When she didn't respond straight away, his eyes narrowed with a mixture of panic and suspicion. "Should I get down on one knee or something?"

"Yes."

"Yes you'll marry me, or yes I should get down on one knee?" In all honesty he had no idea which one she was referring to.

"Yes I'll marry you, you idiot," Cuddy confirmed, unable to hold back a chuckle. On countless occasions she'd secretly imagined how he might propose to her. That perhaps he'd take her out to dinner, or he'd whisper it in her ear as they sat watching the waves roll away from them on the beach. Now she felt mildly stupid and oddly jubilant. That they were sat holding hands in the kitchen after an argument when he'd popped the question was infuriatingly them. No clichés, not even a ring and yet she couldn't be happier. Today was always going to be the day she turned forty-six; that Rachel proposed to them, and that House repeated the question to her.

"Well that's a relief! Because let me tell you, that is one tradition that is _not_ cripple-friendly."

"Are you going to shut up and kiss me?" she demanded light-heartedly.

Willingly complying, he leant forward and sought out her lips against his in an embrace that managed to be gentle and intense simultaneously. Eventually breaking away, House smoothed away the black mascara that had smudged in the corner or her eye, and gave her a slightly cheeky smirk.

"There's bottle of champagne in the fridge. We could open that."

Cuddy shook her head in response.

"I want you take me upstairs."

"See! One mention of my 'caveman routine' and you can't keep your hands off me."

Rolling her eyes playfully, she took his hand when he got off his stool and followed him through the house, grinning broadly when he eventually laid her down on their bed and whispered, "Happy birthday" in her ear.


	16. Chapter 16

_As usual you guys are fantastic. Thank you so much for all the reviews, favourites and alerts, and for sticking with this so long._

_These two wouldn't be House and Cuddy if I didn't spend some part of writing a chapter wanting to bang their heads together. _

_No major plans to throw Arlene into the mix at this point, purely because I don't think there's the same 'drama' to be had as there is with Julia. There are definite markers as to how she feels about House and her daughter's relationship with him though._

_Penultimate chapter here! I can't believe it's nearly over. A little sad, a little relieved!_

_Shore has all the money. I have nothing._

* * *

Raising her hand to knock, Cuddy decided against it and turned the doorknob, opening the door and stepping into relative darkness; the only light source striking in from a lamp outside and giving eerie illumination to the back of House's head as he sat hunched forward on the sofa. Looking past him she saw an empty pill bottle turned on its side next to a half empty bottle of whiskey on the coffee table, and immediately panic set in. Her heart began thumping noisily in her chest.

"House?" she said shakily, making her way round the sofa and crouching down in front of him. Seeing the beads of sweat covering his forehead and his drawn features as he clutched his thigh, it was obvious he was in a considerable amount of pain.

"Didn't you know it's bad luck for us to see each other the night before our wedding?" He winced slightly and lifted his head to look at her, offering a tempered smile. He was relieved to see her, but the fact that she was there was also a means for concern. Late night visits to his apartment didn't always end well. "It's at number two in Time's 'things not to do before you get married' list, after not sleeping with your future Mother-in-Law… You haven't hit on my Mom too have you?"

Knowing full well he was just deflecting, Cuddy ignored the question.

"House, I'm not going to be mad at you whatever you say, but I need to know what you've taken and how much."

"It's just Advil. The bottle was nearly empty anyway."

"Nothing else?"

"No!" he spat back more harshly than he'd intended to. He'd craved Vicodin with every inch of his body for the past couple of hours. A small part of him had even begun formulating plans about how to get some, but his conscience kept on pulling him back from the brink. It wasn't worth the risk. Looking at the concern in her eyes his own expression softened. "I promise… I didn't even drink anything. I just stared at the bottle. I figured having a hangover tomorrow wouldn't be a great idea."

"Ok," she replied softly, reaching out to touch his leg and recoiling again when he flinched. He'd had bad days since they'd been together, but she hadn't seen him like this for years. "Why didn't you call me?"

"I didn't want to bother you." He tried to sound convincing, however in reality he didn't want to. Things had been strained between them for the past few days and he'd been petrified that this would be the straw that broke the camel's back. Her mind seemed to be constantly elsewhere and for the last two nights he'd woken up in the early hours only to find an empty space in the bed next to him. Something was clearly up, but he had no idea what.

Sighing, Cuddy got to her feet and held a hand out towards him.

"Come on."

Taking her hand, House tentatively got to his feet and slung his arm around her shoulder for support.

"Where are we going?"

"We need to get you in the bath."

After awkwardly making their way to the bathroom, Cuddy sat him down on the toilet and began running the water, her hand dipping under the faucet and checking the temperature before turning back to him and gesturing for him put his arms above his head so she could remove his t-shirt. Her undressing him was nothing unusual, but the lack of the usual affection whilst doing so was. As House watched her inch his pants down his legs he couldn't help but think how clinical it seemed; like she was undressing a patient at the hospital and that this was just a means to an end. For the first time in a long time he felt embarrassed to be naked in front of her, and impulsively his hand covered the scar on his thigh.

Getting him to his feet again Cuddy helped him step into the bath and to sink down into the water. When he was sat down he looked up at her expectantly: he wanted her near him. It didn't have to be anything sexual, but he missed their usual physical closeness, and the past few days had felt like years.

"Are you getting in too?"

She appeared to consider his question for a few seconds before slowly shaking her head and slumping down onto the floor alongside the bath, so they were facing each other.

"I thought Danny was meant to be here by now," Cuddy stated with a puzzled look.

"He was. His flight got cancelled so he's not going to get here until the morning." Seeing her apparent satisfaction with his explanation, House rested his head back against the bath and concentrated on the soothing heat of the water. She'd been right. This was what he needed. "Is everything ok at home?"

"I guess," his fiancée responded with some weariness. "Rachel cried when I put her to bed because I made her take her dress off, and Jacob wouldn't stop asking me if there was going to be cake after the ceremony."

Despite himself, House couldn't help but smirk. Rachel was obsessed with dressing up and imagining all sorts of scenarios surrounding whatever costume she had on at the time. A little while ago she'd described to him in vivid detail what she was going to wear for the wedding and how much she felt like a princess, so no doubt she was hacked off that her Mom was concerned with trivial practicalities. Meanwhile their little boy had a voracious sweet tooth, to the point where if either of them baked cakes or pies, he usually had his hand in the bowl long before they managed to get it anywhere near the oven. He'd already expressed an interest in being a chef when he grew up though, and that was something they'd actively encouraged.

"Sounds like you had fun," he said warmly, glimpsing a flicker of amusement in her eyes.

"I live for days like today…. They missed you." For a second he saw the walls break down around her, and was tempted to ask her if she'd missed him too, but bit his tongue.

"Your Mom and Julia know you're here?"

"I told them the hospital paged me with an emergency," she shrugged. It was simpler than telling them the truth that she was desperate to get out of the house. Ever since they'd arrived that afternoon they'd conducted a two-pronged attack practically driven her to insanity; her Mother constantly berating her for not deciding on a Jewish ceremony, and her sister reminding her with regular monotony that it wasn't too late to call the wedding off if she had any doubts. She hadn't necessarily intended to end up at his apartment, but here she was.

They sat in silence for several minutes, the intermittent drip from the faucet the only sound that punctuated their thoughts, as both of them fumbled to make sense of the situation they found themselves in: they were getting married tomorrow and yet they were currently behaving almost like strangers around one another.

Feeling his leg begin to cramp up again, House shifted in the water and swore under his breath, a pained grimace on his face as he braced himself against the searing pain.

"I'll get you some more painkillers from the drug store," Cuddy declared, hauling herself off the tiled floor.

"It's late. You shouldn't be out on your own."

"I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself" she protested stubbornly. "It's two minutes away. I'll be there and back in ten minutes."

"Ok… Thank you."

With a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, she nodded and walked out of the room; the click of the apartment door as she left acting as a signal for him to duck his head under the water.

* * *

Slipping back inside the apartment, Cuddy threw her jacket over the back of the sofa and walked into the bedroom just as House hobbled in through the opposite door, a towel covering the lower portion of his body, whilst he made his way over to the bed and sat down.

"I didn't think I'd be that long… There was a queue." It was a half truth. She did have to wait, but she'd deliberately taken her time walking there and back to enjoy the night air and the solitude. She'd needed time to think.

"I managed," he retorted, kneading his thigh and observing her as she sought out something for him to sleep in and then came over brandishing the articles of clothing. Getting to her knees she edged his pyjama bottoms up his legs, standing up with him when he brought them over his hips and discarded the towel, their close proximity something they were both conscious of. "I'm more used to you taking my clothes off."

"You need to get some rest," she deflected, avoiding making eye contact on purpose. He wouldn't let it lie though.

"_I need you._"

Without warning he moved his hands down to her ass and tilted head down so he could kiss the exposed skin on her neck. Initially Cuddy seemed to go along with it, but then all of a sudden he felt her body tense.

"House, no." It was a weak whisper that wasn't accompanied by any physical attempt to move away.

"That 'no sex before marriage' thing is bullshit if that's what you're worried about," he quipped back, gently grazing his lips along her throat and relishing the floral smell of her perfume, until he sensed her hand pressing firmly against his bare chest.

"I said, _no_!" From the look on her face it was plain to see she wasn't messing around.

"What the fuck is this?" he yelled as she took a step away from him and folded her arms. "You've barely let me touch you in days!"

"Oh I'm sorry I don't believe my sole purpose in life is to lie back and open my legs for you! If that's the kind of woman you want then maybe you should start digging in your wallet again."

Incredulously House's mouth hung open. He genuinely couldn't believe she'd thrown that back in his face after all this time, especially as he hadn't even thought about using a hooker for years.

"Why are you even here?" he spat. "If it's to say the wedding is off and to dump me then just get it over and done with and leave me alone."

"Is that what you want?" Her eyes narrowed as if she was the one suspicious of being manipulated into doing something.

"Of course it's not what I want!" he said in exasperation, flopping back down onto the bed and putting his head into his hands. There was a raw sense of dread developing at the pit of his stomach. "Cuddy you're scaring me." Lifting his head to look her in the eye he voiced his biggest concern. "Are you sick?"

"No."

Inwardly he breathed a sigh of relief, and then his mind shot to another possibility.

"Pregnant?"

"I'm about ten seconds from the menopause, House. Of course I'm not pregnant."

"Then what?" For a long time she didn't say anything. She turned away, she paced and she ran her hand through her hair in agitation, but still she remained silent, leaving him utterly baffled and annoyed. "Cuddy, you're going to make a hole in my floor if you keep that up."

"You'll think I'm being stupid if I tell you," she finally responded, stopping in her tracks and looking him square in the eye.

"Probably, but I'd like to be able to judge for myself."

Taking a deep breath she came and sat next to him, her shoulders sagging as she focused her attention on the antiquated map of Egypt that hung in a frame on the wall.

"I keep on having this dream…"

"I hear they're common," he interrupted glibly. "I have them too. They usually involve you and a pair of handcuffs." Not impressed with his breezy attitude, Cuddy went to get up again but soon felt his hand encompassing hers and pulling her back down. "I'm sorry... Tell me what happens in your dream."

"It's the same every time," she breathed eventually, hanging her head low. "I get back from work and as soon as I set foot through the door I know something's wrong… The kids aren't about and everything's too quiet. Then I hear voices upstairs, so I go up to investigate and it's you… You in _our _bed with someone else… I want to run. I want to scream, but I can't. I'm glued to the spot…" Cuddy gulped and turned to face him. "I've hardly slept for the past few days. Every time I close my eyes I can see you with your hands on someone younger and prettier than me."

Mulling over what she'd told him, he took his time to react. It seemed bizarre she'd gotten herself so worked up over something so silly.

"You do know that it's not real, right? That all of this is in your head?"

"For now maybe… Guys get bored with their wives all the time." It was such a matter-of-fact statement that it unnerved and enraged him in equal measure. Evidently she'd already made her mind up about his future infidelity.

"So you're pissed with me over something I _might _do in the future?" he inquired, his words dripping with disdain. It irritated the hell out of him that she was acting as judge, jury and executioner on the basis that other men were incapable of being faithful.

"I'm not pissed with you, I'm just being realistic… I'm not getting any younger and your last two conquests were what? Fifteen, twenty years younger than me? That's aside from all the hookers you slept with when you were still in Jersey… Why wouldn't I assume that one day I'm not going to be enough for you?"

Throwing his head back, House dug his fingertips into his scalp and let out a strangled moan. This was the root of her insecurity, and he felt at least partially responsible for it. He knew the flurry of hookers after they'd split up, his sham wedding and the one night stand had hurt her, for the first two that had been his intention at the time, but he had no idea the repercussions of his actions were still affecting her even now. He'd been under the impression that they'd drawn a line under it and moved on. How wrong he'd been.

"I don't know how many times or ways I have to say this, but they were _all_ really crappy substitutes for _you_… I want you. I'm always going to want you, and the chances of me getting bored of you when you're this deranged are slim to none."

"You can't know that!" she objected, distress etched across her features.

"Yes I fucking can!" her fiancé re-joined with similar conviction. "You honestly think I'd even look elsewhere when I've got you and the kids at home?... I wouldn't just be betraying you. I'd be betraying them too… I love all of you too much to do that."

Processing his words, tears began to form in the corner of her eyes and soon tumbled down her cheeks as guilt began to prick at her. Instead of blowing this whole thing out of proportion, she should have approached him and talked it through. Nerves, self-doubt and fear had stopped her though.

"I've been such a bitch to you these past few days."

Offering her a comforting smile, he took her hand and laced his fingers through hers, thoroughly relieved that the tension between them appeared to be broken.

"Well I'm not gonna deny that, but you've given me enough free passes over the years… This isn't just pre-wedding nerves is it?... Who cheated on you?" Seeing her eyes bulge as if she'd been caught out, he went on. "It's not anybody since I started working for you because I'd have known, and I'm guessing it's no coincidence this is all coming to the surface before our wedding… I presume it was the prick you married when you were nineteen."

"Now you know why I never wanted you to find out about it," she confided.

"Why?... He's the asshole who couldn't keep his dick in his pants."

"And that's not humiliating at all is it?" she asked sarcastically. "If you found your husband in bed with someone else on your honeymoon that wouldn't be something you wanted to keep under wraps would it?" Reliving the memory she felt herself shudder.

Resisting the urge to crack a joke about him having a husband, he sighed and leaned towards her so his head rested on hers.

"I'm not that moron… Even if I am grateful he was such a moron and let you get away in the first place."

It seemed strange to think that if her marriage had turned out differently, his whole life would have been radically altered. He might not have even met her, and the mere thought frightened him. In spite of his attempts to reduce things and people to the formulaic, at times like these he realised just how chaotic and dictated by chance life really was.

"I know that," Cuddy admitted. "I wasn't even in love with him. I convinced myself I was because I wanted to piss my parents off… They hated Tom. my Mom especially…"

"And finally there's something I have in common with the guy," House chirped in, causing her to sit up and regard him with a frown.

"My Mom doesn't hate you."

"Bullshit! After I got out of prison the first time, I kept one eye looking over my shoulder because I expected Arlene to have put a hit out on me."

"She hated what you did, but I think it was more out of annoyance that she'd got you wrong, rather than the fact you could have hurt Julia and me…" She paused, smirked to herself and rolled her eyes. "When I told her we'd got back together, she said she admired your persistence and that it was right the kids had a father figure in the house."

"Well it's about time one of the Cuddy women appreciated me," House cracked, laughing out loud when she tapped his arm in rebuke and then snuggled back into his body.

"I do appreciate you… I've never let myself need anybody like I need you now. Not even the last time we were together." Inwardly he agreed with her. This time felt so different because they were both more honest with one another and more committed, but as a consequence it also made them more vulnerable. For her especially, relying on other people was at odds with her fierce independence and her natural tendency to control everything, which had undoubtedly stemmed from the constant criticism she'd received from her Mom when she was a child. Even if they'd reacted differently to being told that whatever they did wasn't good enough when they were younger, there was no question it had shaped multiple facets of their respective personalities all these years later: her perfectionism and his rebellious nature were both coping mechanisms. Gripping his hand in hers tightly, Cuddy spoke again. "If I ever found you with someone else, it'd break my heart… I'd also cut your balls off."

"Nice!" House responded, gulping hard and getting to his feet awkwardly, then holding his hand out for her to take. Looking slightly confused she took it and followed him to the full-length mirror in the corner of the bedroom, standing in front of him when he directed her to. "Why exactly would I bother with anybody else when I get to wake up to this every morning?"

Watching him circle his arms around her waist from behind, Cuddy turned her attention to her own reflection and frowned. There were dark circles under her eyes, which were reddened from crying and she was hardly addressed attractively in an old pair of jeans and a grey jumper.

"I look a mess."

"You look beautiful," he contradicted, scrutinising her for himself. "You always do… I look at you sometimes and I can't quite believe what a lucky bastard I really am."

"You're not so bad yourself... I'm lucky too." She smiled at him through the mirror, but soon her expression turned more serious. Increasingly something had started to worry her, as their big day drew closer. "Did I force you into this wedding?"

In response his brow furrowed, and he regarded her thoughtfully.

"When I first asked you, it was more because it was what you wanted…"

"And now?"

"I went to pick up my suit today and when the old guy at the counter asked me who I was getting married to, I ended up pulling a photo of you and the kids from my wallet, and then going on about you until his eyes started glazing over." Seeing the corners of Cuddy's mouth twitch upwards, he couldn't help but grin nervously himself. Having a family to feel proud of still seemed so new and pleasantly odd. "Yeah, you turned me into _that _guy… I like telling people that you're my fiancée, and I'm going to like telling them you're my wife even more."

Breaking free from his arms she turned around and ran her hand down his chest, as her blue eyes locked onto his.

"I like letting people know who you belong to as well."

"And how do you do that?" he inquired, coyly raising an eyebrow. She was exasperatingly sexy when she got all possessive on him.

"Like this."

In an instant she was on her tiptoes and claiming his mouth greedily with a long, lingering kiss that neither of them wanted to end, her hands clutching at his back as he dipped his fingers underneath the waistband of the jeans. Suddenly a shooting pain shot down his leg and forced him to pull away, leaving Cuddy first baffled and then worried, as she watched him shift his weight completely to the other leg and scrunch his face up in agony. Wordlessly she guided him back to the bed and made him lie down, quickly fetching a glass of water from the kitchen, then pulling the Advil she'd purchased earlier from her pocket and handing him two. After he'd taken them, she lay next to him and began to delicately massage his thigh, watching the expressions on his face to gauge what he needed and where, until the strain of the cramps seemed to evaporate away.

"We could cancel tomorrow and wait until you feel better," Cuddy suggested, stilling her hand on his leg.

Immediately his eyes flickered open.

"No fucking way!... I'm getting to the City Hall if I have to crawl there."

"But…."

"But nothing!" House interrupted before she had chance to finish her sentence. "We're getting married _tomorrow_." Exhaling deeply, she scooted closer and rested her head on his chest as he stared at the ceiling in contemplation. There was something that needed addressing, which had bothered him to various degrees since the infarction. "What happens if I lose my leg one day?"

"We cross that bridge when we come to it," she said simply.

Still not satisfied he pressed on.

"But what happens if you're not attracted to me anymore?... What if, you know, I can't satisfy you?"

Sitting up, Cuddy looked down at him and saw the genuine fear in his eyes.

"First of all, I'm attracted to you because of what's up here and in here," she clarified, pressing her fingers to his forehead and then his chest where his heart beat underneath. "Those blue eyes and your hands are just added bonuses, and your leg is way down the list." In spite of her honesty he continued to look at her sceptically. It pained her that so much of his self-loathing came back to a damaged limb that was inconsequential to how she felt about him. It had never been an issue for her, to the point that she often forgot about his disability. He wasn't a guy with a limp to her, but the man she was in love with. "I must be insane for telling you this, but Lucas hardly ever got me off." Genuinely shocked that his fiancée was divulging this kind of information about her Ex, his jaw dropped open. "Yeah you heard me right…" Feeling her cheeks flush in embarrassment, Cuddy shrugged her shoulders. "My point is that he didn't have the issues you do with your leg, and he still didn't do it for me… I have never been as attracted to anybody else as I am to you, and our sex life is _great._ You losing your leg wouldn't change that…"

"You say that, but I'm not a patient. I'd be your husband… It's always different… The physio alone can get pretty ugly."

"Sure, it'd make things difficult initially," she agreed. "There's no denying that, but we'd get through it as a family… We'd have to discuss if you wanted a prosthetic and so on, but we'd adjust…"

She was about to go on when his hand cupped her cheek, and his thumb traced her lips, as unwept tears form in his eyes making them sparkle in the dim light emanating from the lamp.

"God, I love you," he whispered unevenly. He didn't know what he'd done to deserve someone this understanding, this compassionate and this beautiful, but he did know he'd never stop being grateful she'd wandered into the bookstore all those years ago.

"It's a good job you're marrying me then." Leaning down, she kissed House tenderly and then rested her forehead against his. "I love you too."

"Stay," he pleaded desperately. It seemed ridiculous that they were meant to spend the night before their wedding apart, for the sake of some outdated custom.

"I want to, but my Mom's probably sat at home with a shotgun on her lap as we speak… Besides you need to rest and that's not going to happen if we share a bed tonight." Seeing him smirk roguishly, Cuddy planted another kiss on his cheek and reluctantly clambered off the bed before he had chance to change her mind, which he would undoubtedly try to do. He had ways of grinding her down. Standing at the foot of where he was lying down, she rolled her eyes at the disappointed pet lip he was pulling. "Tomorrow I'm all yours. Tonight we get some sleep."

"Sleep is for wimps!" he shot back.

"Sleep is for people who don't want to look horrific for all eternity in their wedding photos."

Reaching for the t-shirt Cuddy had left at the end of the bed, House pulled it over himself and regarded her with a glint in his eye.

"You better not be wearing white tomorrow because that would be false advertising."

"I was thinking I'd break with tradition altogether and turn up naked," she retorted breezily, immediately thinking what a waste of perfectly good dress that would be.

"Oh. My. God. Do it!" Tucking his hands behind his head, he stretched out lazily and smirked when he saw her raise her eyebrow. The mental image wasn't exactly an unwelcome one for him.

"In your dreams!"

"Oh I sincerely hope so!" he beamed, unashamedly looking her up and down.

Sighing, she turned on her heel and made for the door unenthusiastically. The longer she put off leaving, the more likely she was to throw caution to the wind and stay the night with him, which would cause all sorts of problems with her Mom and sister in the morning. Problems she could do without.

"I'm going home."

"So was Lucas really that bad in the sack?" House queried cheekily, just as she was halfway over the threshold, making her stop momentarily and grimace. She didn't even have to turn around to know he had a smug look on his face, and was already starting to regret the fact she'd told him in the first place. Without question he'd try to pump her for more information in the future, but she going to avoid that whole conversation right now.

"Goodnight House," Cuddy hollered back as she put one foot in front of the other, grabbed her jacket from the sofa and headed out of the apartment, stepping out into the night. Getting into her car she rested her hands on the wheel and that was when it finally hit her that she really was getting married tomorrow. With everything that had happened over the past few days she hadn't fully allowed it to sink in that the ceremony was so imminent. Entirely disregarding her disastrous first marriage, this was something she'd imagined her whole life and the excitement was finally filtering through: it was really happening. Butterflies began to flutter in her stomach just as a buzzing noise came from her glove box. Reaching across, she opened it and pulled her cell out, hoping against hope that it wasn't her Mother nagging her to get back to the house. It wasn't. On opening the message she realised it was from House.

_We could be having sex right now, but you are SO worth the wait… I'm not nervous. This feels right. _

_Yeah, it does, _was Cuddy's simple reply, before she put the key in the ignition and drove back home, not realising she had a stupid grin on her face until she walked in the living room and found Julia sat on the sofa in her gown, painting her nails.

"You're looking pretty pleased with yourself for someone who's just got back from work," her sister commented, eyeing her suspiciously as she perched on the arm of the chair.

Obviously she'd been caught out, but she really couldn't care less. Biting her lip, the bride-to-be could hardly contain her happiness. She felt like a teenager who'd snuck off to see her boyfriend in the night, and had been reprimanded by a disapproving parent. As infuriating as she expected their marriage to be at times, they were after all opinionated, stubborn people, she knew life with House was never going to be mundane or boring, and that made her heart soar. With him at her side she felt like a different person; someone who was more laid back, more content and who ultimately allowed herself to enjoy life more freely. In that moment she resolved she wasn't ever going to give that up without a fight.

"Crisis averted," she responded enigmatically, leaving the room and heading upstairs with the same wildly happy smile.


	17. Chapter 17

_Due to popular demand and real life slowing me down, I've decided to split this final chapter in two. (Also finishing the story on an odd chapter number makes me a bit twitchy.)_

_A gigantic thank you to everybody who's read, reviewed, followed and favourited over the past week. As ever you guys give me the kick I need to continue bashing away at the keyboard. I really enjoy reading people's thoughts on what I've written, even if you think you think the direction I've taken these characters is a bit, well, insane._

_I know one reviewer wanted a bit of clarification on why Cuddy ended up in San Francisco in the first place, and seen as it's been so long since I wrote about it I thought I'd reiterate it here for everybody else too. Basically Julia's husband got offered a job out there, so rather than going through the rest of her pregnancy on her own, she moved out with them. A little while after she found the house, had Jacob and subsequently put feelers out for work, which led to the job offer at UCSF. I hope that helps._

_Shore owns the show. Blah. Blah. Blah._

* * *

Having finally managed to get away from his Mom, who'd been gushing about how wonderful the ceremony was, House stepped outside to get some fresh air and observed the small marquee in the back garden with the caterers milling around inside. Time and time again he'd asked Cuddy if she really didn't mind having such an intimate ceremony and then a celebration afterwards back at the house, but she'd reassured him that she was fine with it. Nevertheless it still niggled at him that she was possibly making allowances for his innate hatred of social gatherings; she deserved the best.

Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of a solitary figure leaning against the wall and sipping wine from her glass, her attention entirely focused on the flowerbed as if it was the most engrossing thing in the World: it was Julia. Running his hand through his hair, he contemplated going back inside and saving Cuddy from her own Mother, but decided to bite the bullet and attempt to have a civil conversation with his new sister-in-law. Sidling up to her, he leaned against the wall and tried to stoke up an amiable exchange.

"My Mom and your Mom are sizing each other up like a pair of crocodiles about to fight over a fresh corpse in there," he ventured, immediately realising that for the woman stood next to him that almost certainly wasn't her first glass of wine. Her pupils were dilated and already her movements were imprecise, as she clumsily crossed one foot in front of the other. "One of them will be going into a death roll any minute."

In response her lip curled up into a sneer, and she took another swig of her drink.

"I have no idea what hold you have over my sister, but one day she's going to realise what a massive mistake she's just made. The sooner, the better."

House rolled his eyes and expelled the air from his lungs. He had no clue why he'd even bothered to strike up any sort of dialogue with her. Every time he'd attempted it in the past, he'd been greeted with the same hostile animosity. She hated him and nothing was going to change that, no matter what he did or didn't do.

"I don't have to listen to this," he mumbled, about to walk away when he heard her say something that glued him to the spot.

"Lisa thought about getting rid of Jacob because he was yours… She'd tried to get pregnant for years, and yet still an abortion crossed her mind."

Hearing the pure venom in Julia's voice, he turned back and saw the self-satisfied leer on her face that made him set his jaw. If she wanted a confrontation she was going to get one.

"You know it's way more interesting that you don't know that I know that…" Noticing her smugness turn to shock, he eyed her defiantly and placed his palm flat on the wall above her head. "For the record, I also know that she nearly slept with my best friend and that she was so depressed she couldn't get out of bed for a week... The thing is, _Julia_, we talk now."

"Really?" she asked sarcastically, evidently not entirely convinced.

"_Really!_" Realising he'd raised his voice enough to attract the attention of one of the caterers, House dropped his gaze to the ground and rubbed his hand over his face in exasperation. Today was meant to be one of the happiest days of his life, and he'd neither wanted, nor anticipated having an argument with anyone. "Look, I get why you hate me. What I did to her, what I could have done to you, Mike and that other guy was despicable. If there was a way I could undo it, I would, but that's not possible… I deserved to be punished for what I did and I was."

"What?" Julia chirped up incredulously. "You mean spending a few months in jail? My heart fucking bleeds for you!"

"No… Prison was nothing in comparison with missing out on the opportunity to be there for Cuddy when she was pregnant. I didn't get the chance to see my son being born, or be around for the first three and a half years of his life. Parts of Rachel growing up are always going to be a blank for me too… That's time I'm never going to get back, and I've got to live with that."

"Wow! I can practically smell the self-pity," she spat back, then proceeded to drain the contents of her glass, unsteadily placing it on the patio next to her before raising herself to her full height again.

"You can rain down all the insults you want on me, and I'll take them because Cuddy and the kids love you… But if you keep on using Rachel and Jacob in your little games, I swear you'll regret it."

Laughing to herself sardonically, Julia looked him squarely in the eye.

"I was wondering how long the violent threats would take. People like you can't help themselves."

"Oh I'd never lay a finger on you… It's Cuddy you need to worry about. She doesn't know you told Rachel I was the reason they left Jersey. _Yet_… I figured I'd wait until after the wedding before letting her dismember you, because boy is she going to be pissed!"

Briefly he saw fear flicker across his sister-in-law's eyes.

"I'm not sorry I did that," she retorted uneasily. Despite her apparent bluster, it was evident she was perturbed. "She deserves to know what kind of man she's living with."

"And you're the person to tell her?"

"I don't see why not…"

Scrutinising Cuddy's younger sister, it was clear she genuinely couldn't comprehend why it was inappropriate for her to be the one to inform the little girl about their past. Either she didn't recognise the damage it could do, or she didn't want to because her own anger impeded her seeing the bigger picture.

"It must be so hard being as perfect as you Julia… But oh wait! You're not are you?" Watching her eyes narrow suspiciously he continued. "You think nobody's noticed the guilty look you get on your face every time Mike shows you any sort of affection? Or the way you freaked out when he touched your cell the last time you came for dinner?"

"What are you talking about?" Urgently her eyes darted around to see if anybody was in earshot.

"So who is it you're screwing?... You've got this whole Desperate Housewives vibe going on, so is it the gardener?... No, you're more the type to fall for the bullshit from some MILF chasing beefcake at the gym… Still it must be worth it, right?"

"That's none of your business," she gulped, visibly sober all of a sudden. Obviously he'd hit the nail on the head.

"No it's not," House agreed. "And to be honest I couldn't care less how you get your kicks, but if you interfere with my family, I'll play just as dirty and interfere with yours."

"You wouldn't dare?"

"_Try me_… Cuddy and the kids are best things that ever happened to me, and I'm not going to sit around and watch as you attempt to drive a wedge between us. I don't want to fight with you because frankly I'd rather save my energy, but you need to know that whatever stunts you try and pull to split us up you'll get them back two-fold." Pausing to let her process his words, he watched her look away and then regard him again, before nodding her head slowly in an uneasy agreement. "Now if we're finished I'm going to go and find _my_ _wife_."

Turning on his heel to leave, House felt a hand on his arm and span back around, half expecting her to be snarling at him, but instead her expression was one of apprehension.

"When you screw this up I'm going to be the one who has to pick up the pieces again."

"But I'm not going to screw it up," he replied simply and sincerely. For all the threats she'd made he understood her hatred of him had stemmed from her affection for her sister, and he couldn't help but respect that. Deep down they both wanted the best for Cuddy, even if they had a difference of opinion on what that actually was. "I love her too much to hurt her again."

"You'd better not, or I'll make death seem like the easy option for you," Julia warned, her serious expression making it pretty clear it wasn't an empty threat.

Deciding not to respond verbally, he instead nodded and came to the conclusion that they were finally reading from the same page. They were never going to like each other, but that didn't mean they couldn't come to an understanding for the sake of the people they both cared about.

Slowly he limped away from her and stepped inside.

* * *

House had barely walked through the French windows when he spotted Rachel and Jacob perched on the kitchen table, the former pointing the camcorder he'd allowed them to use at someone or something in the living room, whilst the latter unsuccessfully tried to grab it from her. Deciding to diffuse the situation he walked over and wedged himself in between them, grabbing Jacob and sitting him on his lap.

"What's up?" Looking over his step-daughter's shoulder, he now saw she was covertly recording two of their guests, who rather awkwardly getting to know one another.

"Is that Wilson's brother?" Rachel inquired still not drawing herself away from spying on the odd couple.

"Yup! That's Danny."

Neither of the children were strangers to who Wilson was and what happened to him. One weekend before they'd got back together, Cuddy came across old photos of the three of them at a Charity Gala back at PPTH in the garage, which provoked a long explanation about how they all met and their resulting friendships as the four of them sat down and examined the pictures. Now House often told the kids about the pranks he and his best friend got up to, as they listened and generally ended up in fits of laughter.

"And who's that?"

"That's Martha Masters," he clarified, examining the young woman who was now gawkily flirting with Danny in a way that was excruciating to watch. Nevertheless he appeared to be lapping it up, dismissing it as nothing when she accidently spilled her champagne on him after throwing her arms out in an over-exuberant flourish. According to Cuddy she'd practically invited herself to the post-wedding party when she heard about them getting married, but being privy to this alone was enough to make up for the imposition. "She used to work for me when I was doctor, and now she works for your Mom."

"I think they like each other," Rachel grinned.

Tutting like an old woman, Jacob wriggled around on his Dad's good leg and attempted to loosen the tie around his neck. Already his shirt was untucked and his jacket had been strewn on the stairs the minute he'd run through the front door.

"Daddy said I could have a go too!"

"You did, and you kept on pointing the camera the wrong way," his sister fumed back. "Nobody wants a wedding video where all you can see is you singing Incy Wincy Spider and picking boogers. It's gross!"

As if he'd been physically wounded, the little boy let out a pained gasp and craned his head back to look up at his Father.

"Daddy tell her!"

"Rachel, let him have another go."

"But…"

"Please?" House asked softly. "For me."

Reluctantly she handed it over and watched begrudgingly as Jacob slipped down onto the floor, accepting the camera as her Step-Father handed it to him the right way round, and then proceeded to undo his tie and open the top button on his shirt, before spinning him round and sending him on his way.

"No ectoplasm on the camera please, Slimer," he called after him, but Jacob had already bounded outside and had no doubt bumped into his Auntie Julia already. Turning back to Rachel he nudged her arm gently with his elbow. "So what did you think of earlier?"

Instantly her face lit up, her eyes twinkling in the light that was striking through the window and matching the colour of her aquamarine dress.

"It was so nice!... Mom looked really pretty, didn't she?"

"Yeah she did." Straight away his mind went back to little over a couple of hours ago when they'd met in the foyer of the City Hall to go and get the marriage license. The second he'd seen her in her long, midnight blue dress walking towards him, his breath caught in the back of his throat. He'd expected her to look stunning, but she'd actually rendered him speechless to the point he couldn't return her greeting when she slipped her hand in his, instead forcing him to peck her on the cheek as a means of saying hello. "What about me? I brush up pretty well too, don't I?"

"I'm not sure about what you've done to your face," Rachel responded, screwing up her nose.

"I had a shave!"

"It makes you look weird."

"Thanks!"

"But it does…" Rachel urged, the sentiment in her head no doubt running along the lines of wanting to be cruel to be kind.

"Your Mom thinks it makes me look handsome… Well," he corrected with a smile. "Less like a hobo anyway."

Reaching up, Rachel ran her hand along his bare jawline and looked at him sceptically.

"It'd be better if you didn't do it again."

Raising an eyebrow, House bit his lip to stop himself from snickering. The eight year old had already picked up her Mom's 'negotiating' skills, and was adept at getting her own way.

"Well now that's sorted…"

Sighing, he rested his head in his hand as they fell into a comfortable silence, and observed the little girl next to him watching an increasing number of people filter into the house. The older she got, the more predisposed to people watching she was. Whenever they went out to the beach or the park she'd often make observations about those around her and predict who they were and what they did. Generally they were fanciful guesses, but now and again her comments would be so spot on that even he'd regard her with a mixture of surprise and amusement. She was remarkably perceptive for someone her age, and he regretted dismissing her as stupid when he'd first got to know her as a toddler.

"Do I have to call you Dad now that you and Mom are married?" She stopped for a second or two and appeared to be hesitating. "I know already do it sometimes when I forget, but I mean all the time."

"Not if you don't want to," he shrugged, careful not to push her in either direction. This was a decision she had to make for herself.

For a long time she just stared back at him, her forehead twisting into a frown as she thought about how to respond.

"Would you mind if I did?... We're a proper family now, right?"

Pulling her towards him, House slipped his arm around her and gave her a comforting squeeze. Since he'd got out of prison and reacquainted himself with her, liking had turned into affection, and affection gradually into love. Whilst Jacob was generally oblivious when his Father was having a bad day, Rachel would sense his pain and practically glue herself to him, attentively asking if he needed anything and making a point of distracting him by discussing what had happened during her day. As time went on, that she wasn't genetically his became increasingly immaterial and secretly he'd hoped that she was going to broach this topic anyway. He adored his son, but he'd come to have a real soft spot for Rachel and suspected the same was true for her with regards to him. Occasionally Cuddy would tease him about the boyfriends her daughter would have in the future and much to his own disbelief he could feel the protectiveness bubbling up in the pit of his stomach.

"I'll answer to practically anything, kiddo… Except for grumpy pants. You and your brother jump on me when I'm asleep on the sofa and call me that again, and it's curtains for you two." Listening to her giggle, House smirked and brushed a strand of her hair out of her face that had slipped out of her braid. "Where's your Mom by the way?"

"She went upstairs I think."

"How do you fancy keeping Grandma Arlene and my Mom entertained while I go and see her?"

Lifting her head from his side, she groaned pathetically.

"Do I have to?"

"Pretty please!" In a completely over the top fashion he pouted and batted his eyelashes at her, only to be met with stony indignation. "Ok, how about we rethink getting you that new bike?"

Within the blink of an eye she'd jumped off the table and was about to head off towards Arlene and Blythe when House called her back.

"Wait a minute." Obediently she stood still and waited as he grabbed a bottle of wine off the side and two glasses, cautiously handing them over to his step-daughter who carefully took hold of them. "Tell them I said, 'enjoy!'"

Nodding her head she turned again, but quickly spun back as if she'd forgotten something.

"Don't spend too long kissing Mom… Everyone's come to see both of you, not me."

"Aye, aye Captain!" he replied, tipping his fingers from his forehead in a mock salute.

* * *

Cuddy didn't have to turn round to know he was watching her. She'd always had a sixth sense regarding when House had walked into a room. The hairs on the back of her neck would stand on end, and her stomach would flip over in nervous excitement. Even now, all these years later, nothing had changed.

"Everything ok?" she asked, still bending over the bed and continuing to pack a few items into the suitcase that rested on top.

"Peachy." Looking over her shoulder, she saw him leaning against the doorframe and unashamedly ogling her ass as he took a sip from his champagne flute. Turning back she couldn't help but smile to herself: knowing he constantly wanted her made her feel as sexy as hell, even if, with their home full of people, this wasn't the most appropriate of situations. Hearing him close the door and set his glass down on the dressing table, she felt a shiver run down her spine. "So why exactly are you packing when we don't go away until tomorrow evening?" House inquired, wrapping his arms around her waist and grazing his chin along the bare skin on her shoulder.

"I'd forgotten a few things."

"And the real reason?"

"My Mom wouldn't shut up about me not changing my name…" Cuddy breathed. "She thinks you're just pretending to go along with it." Spinning round she faced him and looked at him searchingly. "You are ok with it?"

"We've talked about this. It makes more sense professionally for you to stay as you are… Besides, sex would get really confusing if we both kept on screaming out the same name."

Rolling her eyes, Cuddy pulled his undone tie out from under his collar and threw it on the bed behind her. She'd always been a sucker for him in a clean shirt with the top button undone.

"We could try and call each other by our first names."

"During sex or just generally?" he quipped back, placing his hands on her hips when she shook her head at him. "You seriously want to start calling me Greg?"

"Stacy used to," she asserted tentatively, shrugging her shoulders.

"What Stacy did or didn't do is irrelevant… This is about what's right for us."

Seconds ticked by as she seemed to be taking in what he'd said.

"It'd be really odd, wouldn't it?"

"Yup," he nodded in agreement. "Too odd. Besides what we call each other is nobody's business, but ours." Inclining forward he rested his forehead against hers, and sighed serenely when she sat her palm on his chest. "You look amazing."

"You look pretty good yourself… Even if I nearly didn't recognise you."

Reaching up she caressed his smooth cheek with the back of her fingers and grinned.

"Don't get used to it. Rachel thinks it makes me look _weird_."

"You look really handsome," Cuddy confided, kissing the corner of his mouth. "But I want my scruffy _husband_ back tomorrow."

Before she had chance to retort his lips were on hers, claiming them in a manner that made her head swim. Eventually she broke away and tried to regulate her breathing, her whole body tingling as she readjusted to the loss of contact. It would be so easy just to push him down on the bed and climb on top of him."

"We can't do this now."

Dejectedly he dropped his head onto her shoulder and groaned in frustration.

"Can't I have twenty minutes of quality time with my wife?... If everybody hears the headboard banging against the wall, we can tell them we were hanging a picture." Lifting his head up, he looked at her pleadingly and made his bottom lip protrude pathetically. "It's been four days, Cuddy! There should be laws against us not having sex for that long."

"Oh believe me! I know exactly how long it's been. That's why when I get you in here later, I'm not letting you out of bed for at least a couple of hours."

"Why did you have to tell me that?" House said with a whine. "Now all I'm going to be able to think about is you naked."

"And this is something new?"

Acknowledging her wry smile, he gave her one of his own.

"Fair point." Clasping her hand, he ran his thumb over her wedding band and frowned. Like everything else concerning their wedding he wasn't sure if it was good enough for her. "Today has been ok hasn't it? I mean I know we only had a few months to plan everything, but you're happy with things being this low-key?"

Seeing the tangible concern etched on his face, it was obvious the thought of making her settle for second best was something that really bothered, no matter how much she'd reassured him to the contrary on the lead up to the wedding.

"Everybody who really mattered was at the ceremony, and now we get to relax back here with our family and friends," she reassured him. "It's great."

"You're sure? I wanted everything to be perfect for you."

"It is!" Cuddy insisted. "And anyway this isn't just about me. A huge ceremony where we're surrounded by people we barely know or like wouldn't really be us, would it?" Seeing him shake his head, she went on. "It's not all the trimmings that make a wedding special, it's the people… Which reminds me, we've effectively gone AWOL from our own wedding reception." Tugging his arm she began to lead him to the door when he suddenly stopped and pulled her back towards him. "House, we really do need to show our faces."

"I know," he conceded, "I just need to tell you something."

"What's wrong?"

"Absolutely nothing… That's the thing. I never even imagined I could be this happy."

"And that scares you?" Cuddy probed, unable not to think about his similar admission back at his old apartment a few years ago. They'd come such a long, long way since then.

"A bit, but that's not the point. I know if we want things to stay this good I've got to work at it this time."

"We both do."

"I guess what I wanted to say was thank you..." Nervously he scratched his head and dropped his gaze to the floor in an attempt to disguise his emotions. His stomach was knotting and tears were beginning to prick at the corners of his eyes. Gulping he swallowed the lump in his throat and let the air expel from his lungs slowly. "Thank you for not giving up on me when everybody else would have done… For making me feel like I finally belong somewhere." Eventually daring to look at her again he saw a lone tear escape from the corner of her eye and tumble down her cheek, as she laced her fingers through his. "You and the kids are everything to me, Cuddy… I wanted to tell you that in private before I go downstairs and tell everybody else."

"There was never going to be anybody else I wanted this with," she responded truthfully, wiping another tear away with the back of her hand and circling her arms around his waist as she hugged him. "You drive me crazy, but I love you so much and so do my babies. You don't have to thank me when you're equally as responsible for making us all so happy."

For a long time they just held each other, content enough not to feel the need to say anything until their obligations downstairs began to press on them both.

"You know, people probably think we're having sex right now," House ruminated out loud. "It'd be wrong of us not to live up to their expectations."

"Nice try, Buster." Unwillingly pulling herself away, Cuddy smiled warmly at her new husband and offered him her hand to take, which he duly did. "Come on, you might even enjoy yourself."

"I'd enjoy sex more."

"And risk our Moms hammering on the door in the middle of it?"

"Yeah, maybe not," he responded, his face screwing up in disgust at the mental picture, as she reopened the door and dragged him out of the room.

"You better not mention my ass in your speech."

"Well that's most of my material out of the window," he muttered under his breath, chuckling heartily when she shot him a dirty look. "Believe me, I've got every intention of keeping your ass to myself."


	18. Chapter 18

_So we're finally at the end of the road folks! Many, many thanks to everybody who's followed this story and taken the time to review over the past few months. I wouldn't have got here if it wasn't for you lovely people._

_I know some of you requested an epilogue, but I kind of like where I'm leaving things here. I think it's final enough to be a proper ending, but it's also open enough in case I do think of a way to continue and therefore won't close any doors for me. (No guarantees! The house is a tip and I need to make a Christmas cake before I even consider taking this any further. ;))_

_Some adult content because, well, it's their wedding night._

_Yep. Still renting House and Cuddy._

* * *

Frowning when they pulled into a long row of garages, House turned and eyed Cuddy suspiciously as she looked for a space to park. This definitely wasn't the place he'd expected to be a little before midnight on the day he got married.

"So why exactly are we here?"

"If I tell you it's not a surprise, is it?" she responded, slowly backing into a spot.

"I hate surprises."

"You'll like this one. Trust me." Turning the car engine off, she pulled the key from the ignition and smiled at him. "Come on."

After getting out, House waited on the grass verge and took her hand, allowing himself to be lead as they walked along the path.

"I still can't believe you let Danny crash on our sofa," he moaned grumpily, drawing a weary sigh from her.

"Why is it such a big deal?" She honestly had no idea why he'd been in such a mood since she'd offered to let Wilson's brother sleep there. It seemed like the practical solution seen as he was both tired and more than a little drunk.

"It's our wedding night!... We should be having noisy sex in every room."

"And there was me hoping for rose petals, champagne, maybe a massage," Cuddy mumbled under her breath, then looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "What was I supposed to do? He could barely stand up and we couldn't even get him in the guest room."

Returning her gaze he pouted like a petulant child: she had a point. Danny may have resembled his brother in many ways, but he was much taller and stockier. Physically moving him anywhere, including bundling him into a taxi, would have been difficult. In spite of that, selfishly he'd wanted her and the house to himself after all the other guests had gone home.

"Your Mom browbeat Julia into taking the kids so we could be on our own."

"Well maybe if you hadn't opened that bottle of scotch…" She let the rest of the sentence hang in the air testily. If he was going to blame her for this, he had another thing coming.

"It's not my fault he can't handle his drink… And besides we were celebrating me finally making an honest woman out of you." To emphasise his words he squeezed her hand, watching as she unsuccessfully stifled a grin, and began to search through her bag when they stopped in front of one of the many corrugated iron doors. "So now that we're married you've finally decided to show me where you keep your bondage gear?" Getting a dirty look in response, he decided to tease her even more just as she found the key and bent down to contend with the lock. "Like you've never tied me up and had your wicked way with me."

"I don't remember you ever complaining," Cuddy retorted snappily, releasing the lock from its catch and letting the shutter zip up to the top to reveal a pitch black space.

"I couldn't. You gagged me." Squinting into the darkness, he could just about make out something fairly large that was covered over with something and immediately his interest was piqued.

"If only… I'd enjoy the peace." Stepping inside she found the light pull and tugged, throwing the whole space into a dim relief, and made her way over to the tarpaulin. Turning around she regarded him a little hesitantly. "I was going to wait until tomorrow, but seen as we ended up having company tonight…"

Curious as to what it was, House hung his cane on the bench at the side and limped into the middle of the concrete floor until he was stood next to her.

"What is it?"

"You better look," she replied with a weak smile. Truth be told her heart was pounding with a mix of excitement and fear that he wouldn't like it. Awkwardly her husband bent down and pushed the blue cover to one side, his mouth hanging open in shock when he discovered what was underneath. "Do you like it?... The guy in the shop said it was a classic, but if you don't we could always take it back. I mean it's no…"

"Are you fucking kidding me?" he interrupted, running his hand along the soft leather of the seat and eyeing the metallic blue paintwork like a child with a brand new toy. "It's a Triumph Thunderbird. She's perfect… It must have cost you a fortune."

Slinging her arm around his waist happily, Cuddy kissed him on the cheek.

"I happen to think you're worth it… Anyway I got sick of you looking out of the window longingly every time we passed a bike. I guess I'll just have to get used to there being another woman in your life."

Looking at him coyly, she laughed loudly when House physically picked her up and plonked her down on the seat side-saddle, opening her legs wider as he stepped in between them and gripped her waist under her jacket. She may not be wearing the dress and the make-up anymore, but she still managed to look breathtakingly gorgeous, even after such a hectic day.

"She's beautiful and all, but she's no Lisa Cuddy." Leaning down he kissed her briefly but with intent on the lips, drawing a disappointed murmur from her throat when he pulled away and regarded her mischievously. "She handles like a dream, and boy does she purr like a kitten when you turn her on…" Seeing her roll her eyes at the remark he kissed her again, and then pressed his forehead against hers. "Thank you."

"You're welcome… But there are rules."

"Aren't there always?" he groaned, slipping his fingertips under her jumper and frowning as she shivered at the sensation of his cold digits on her back. "I promise to always wear a helmet, and never to let a drop alcohol pass my lips before I hop on her."

"Are you referring to me or the bike?"

"How am I supposed to answer that without you beating me to within an inch of my life?"

"Tactfully," she offered, cupping his cheek and feeling his beard start to return. Clean-shaven House was handsome, but she'd grown to love the feel of his beard on her skin. Aside from that, it was part of who he was; her scruffy, obnoxious, funny, sexy genius. "No riding in the rain, or going off after we've had an argument either."

"Yes, _Mom._"

"Do you know how many patients we treat at the hospital who've come off their bikes?" she inquired angrily. She'd nearly decided against getting him it for fear of him winding up injured or worse still, and it was an image that still haunted her.

"Statistically I'm more likely to have an accident in a car than a bike."

"I know but…" She faltered and looked away. The mere thought of losing him all over again made her feel ill. "I care about you."

Tipping her face back so she was looking in his direction once more, he gazed at her intently.

"I know you do, which is why I'm not about to start being reckless." Seeing her somewhat placated by his words, he pulled her into a hug and closed his eyes when he felt her arms wrap around him. Knowing that another person's happiness depended on him looking after himself was equally reassuring and unnerving. "I feel like a complete asshole for not getting you a wedding present now."

"It doesn't matter," she whispered into his ear.

"Yeah it does… Is there something you need?"

Unclasping her hands from around him, she pulled back and narrowed her eyes as if she was thinking.

"There might be something…"

"Shoot!"

Pursing her lips, she paused for a minute and then finally spoke.

"Jacob's yours. He's always going to be yours."

"That's good to know," House interjected jovially, puzzled as to where she was going with this.

"If anything happens to me, he's automatically your responsibility." She stopped for a second and watched the lines on his forehead deepen as he tried to fathom what she was getting at. "With Rachel it's different. I've still got Julia named in my will as her legal guardian if I die. Now that we're married I want to change that… My kids come as a pair, and I want you to be the one who takes care of them if something happens to me."

Brushing his hand through his hair, he let the air expel from his lungs noisily. This wasn't perfume or shoes. This was her entrusting her daughter to him.

"This is a big deal."

"It is which is why I'm not expecting you to make a decision right now… Just think about it."

"But I'm older than you," he responded, trying desperately to banish scenarios where he'd be the one left behind from his mind. "I've abused my body for years. The chances of you dying first are slim to none."

"You and I both know anything could happen at any time… I could get sick. I could step out in front of a car…" His eyes shut tightly at the horrific picture she painted, and she felt his fingers dig almost painfully into her thigh. "I thought Wilson would outlive us both, but he didn't."

At the mention of his best friend his eyes opened, and stared mournfully into hers. He hated the fact that the randomness of life prevented him from contradicting her. So many factors determined the length of time a person spent on the planet, and so many of them were out of his hands.

"You trust me with them?"

"After the cancer scare back in Jersey, I knew I couldn't trust you with Rachel because you'd always have put yourself first back then. It was part of the reason I broke up with you… There was always going to come a time when I'd have to choose between you and her welfare." She watched his shoulders sag guiltily, before going on. "Now I don't have to. You're good for the kids, and they're good for you. If anything happened to me, and I'm not saying it will, I want them to be with the person who loves them as much as I do. That's you… Like I said, take your time and think about it."

"Ok," he eventually nodded.

Simultaneously they both sighed deeply and then laughed.

"It's been an interesting day," Cuddy exclaimed, jumping off the bike and onto her feet.

"Sure has!"

"I've been to worse weddings…"

"Well I don't really have that many to compare it with so…" Before he could finish his sentence, his wife slapped him hard on the ass. "Jeez woman, it was a joke!... I've had a great day."

"So have I," she said with genuine warmth. Sure there'd been the odd hiccup along the way, such as Jacob spilling juice on one of the members of the board, but all in all things had gone really well.

"You fancy going somewhere?" House asked.

"Now?... It's kind of late to be going to a bar."

"Not a bar."

Seeing the suspicious glint in his eye, she was more than a little intrigued. She probably should feel tired by now, but in actuality she was wide awake.

"Alright, but if we end up at a strip club you're in serious trouble."

* * *

Kicking her legs out in front of her as she sat on the sea wall, Cuddy shivered as the breeze tickled over her face and blew through her hair. Feeling a hand on her shoulder she knew House had returned from the car, and gratefully accepted the blanket he was tucking around her shoulders before he climbed next to her.

"Thanks."

"Anything for my lady," he chirped back with mock bombast.

Hearing a bunch of young adults shouting and laughing around a bonfire a few hundred yards away from them on the beach itself, they both watched as a girl from the group jumped on the back of a young guy and cackled raucously when he threatened to dump her in the ocean.

"We used to be that young once."

"I'm so old I can't even remember."

The truth was he could remember being that age and how far from their apparent happiness he'd been back then. At eighteen he was pretty much a loner, and had already worked numerous jobs just so he had enough money to strike out alone and get away from his Father's oppressive regime at home. College, Cuddy and then Wilson had come years later.

"At least they got the right idea and lit a fire," Cuddy said with a shudder, jealously regarding the flames.

"You are such a girl!"

"What gave me away?"

"Your _huge_… sense of superiority," he cracked, yelping when she elbowed him in the ribs, and then proceeded to snuggle into his shoulder.

For a while they just sat in silence and watched the Pacific Ocean roll away from them, the Moon reflected in the water on the clear, crisp night.

"I do like it here."

"I used to come here after leaving yours sometimes." House pulled the blanket further over her and then continued. "To clear my head. To plot how I was going to get you back."

"I guess it worked."

"Sure did! Now you're stuck with me." Cuddy seemed to heave a loud sigh in response. "Hey, I'm not that bad!"

"No it's not that," she reassured him, taking his hand and tucking it under the blanket with hers. "It's just we've wasted so much time."

"It wasn't a complete waste of time. I mean I got to ogle your ass and piss you off, whilst doing my Superdoc thing." He paused for a second and leant his chin on her forehead. "Maybe we had to lose each other for a while… I don't mean that that had to involve me going off the rails and driving into your dining room, but you know… You always expected me to screw up, and I always expected you to pick up the pieces no matter what I did wrong. We took each other for granted."

Realising how right he was, she buried herself deeper into him.

"Do you ever wonder what would've happened if you hadn't come here with Wilson?" It was something she'd mulled over herself on numerous occasions.

"I know what would've happened," he shrugged with certainty. "My best friend would've died and then I'd have found some hole to crawl into so I could drink and take drugs until I didn't wake up again."

Hearing him talk so matter-of-factly about effectively killing himself chilled Cuddy to the bone. For years she'd feared him not turning up to work one day, and either her or Wilson finding him dead in his apartment.

"Maybe it would have been a wake-up call."

"I was legally dead, an addict and I had nothing and no-one. There wasn't going to be a happy ending," House said contradicting her. Try as he may to see things another way, he couldn't. His initial optimism when he and Wilson left Princeton was entirely short-sighted. "What about you? Maybe your sister would have hooked you up with someone altogether more respectable."

His new wife groaned into his chest.

"And I'd have died of boredom…" Craning her neck backwards, she looked up at him. "Eventually I'd have stopped being angry with you, and then I'd have spent the rest of my life regretting not seeing you again. There'd have been this great big reminder every time I looked at Jacob that things might have been different."

Looking up at the stars, House couldn't help but wonder how things would have turned out if he hadn't spent most of his time avoiding her after they broke up. Maybe he'd have noticed the symptoms of her pregnancy, and the whole mess they'd spent the last few years clearing up could have been avoided. Either way, he knew he should be grateful that he was back next to the love of his life; there was no question in his mind that was exactly what she was now.

"I guess the fact that Wilson was such a meddling, old woman finally paid off, eh?" His upbeat tone belied how he really felt about the absence of his friend. His best friend not being there still seemed like a part of him was missing.

"He should have been there today," Cuddy said quietly, contemplating just how much she missed him too. She would never have been able to thank him enough for managing to get her and House under the same roof so they could begin to sort through their problems.

"Hell no!... He'd have taken one look at you in that dress, pushed me out of the way and married you himself."

They both laughed.

"He would never of believed that you proposed to me, let alone the fact that you actually turned up to our wedding."

"People change," he mumbled, almost under his breath.

Sitting upright, Cuddy looked at him with a confused frown and placed the back of her hand against his forehead as if to feel his temperature.

"Are you feeling ok? Because I could've sworn that you just said people change."

"Oh shut up!" he whined, screwing his eyes up and grasping her hand as she giggled at him. "I was wrong. I admit it… Happy now?"

Smiling at him she leaned in, kissed him and then pulled away.

"I'd be much happier if you took me back to your apartment."

"Why?"

"Well aside from the fact I'm freezing my ass off here, I'd really like to have noisy sex with my husband."

In response House raised an eyebrow and licked his lips slowly. She was unnervingly good at going from nought to smoking hot in a few seconds.

"What about Danny?"

"He's definitely not part of the deal," she retorted coyly, giving him a look that could melt stone as she readjusted the collar on his jacket. "We can spend some quality time at the apartment, and then take his stuff back with us when we go home… I doubt he's going to be fully conscious until around mid-day anyway."

"I knew there was a reason I married you." Scooting around, he jumped off the wall and came up behind her, circling his arms around her waist. "Practical _and _sexy."

Without warning he pulled her backwards, forcing a happy squeal from her lips.

* * *

"Nope," Cuddy said in hushed tones as House flung the door to the apartment open. "You've been drinking all day, and your leg was bad yesterday. No way!"

Ignoring her protestations, he hooked his cane on the bookcase just the other side of the door, turned on the light and then swept her legs out from underneath her, grinning from ear to ear as she scowled at him.

"Shut up and do as you're told, wench!"

"If you drop me on my head…"

"It'll make no difference whatsoever."

Slapping him on his chest, she pretended to look insensed.

"You're going to pay for that."

"I sincerely hope so," he retorted, carefully navigating his way over the threshold with her in his arms and awkwardly kicking the door shut, before finally setting her down behind the sofa. "There we go, _wife_."

"Is your manly pride still intact then? Or am I going to have to massage your ego a little more?"

Deviously she stuck her tongue in her cheek and removed her jacket, tossing it on the furniture behind her without letting her eyes leave his. It was his move next. Stepping forward he leaned to the side so his breath was tickling the back of her neck, and whispered in her ear.

"You babe, can massage whatever you like…" Pulling back, he eyed her mischievously and saw the raw mix of love and lust there. "But first I need the bathroom."

"Sooner you go, sooner you come back."

Heeding her advice House turned on his heel and opened the door to the bedroom, walking through and leaving Cuddy alone in the silent room. Looking around her she couldn't help but realise how sparse the place was. Yes, he'd brought a lot of his things with him when he moved in, but even so it was still clear that he'd existed rather than really lived in this place before they'd gotten back together. The walls were more or less bare, and looking through into the kitchen it looked pretty much untouched, which was hardly surprising seen as he'd spent most evenings at the house since he'd left prison. The only thing he really cherished was in the corner of the room. Walking over to it she leant against the piano and flipped the lid up, tracing her fingers over a few keys when she heard the floorboard creak behind her.

"I don't let just anybody get their hands on my instrument."

"And what about me?" she inquired, smirking to herself but still not turning around to face him.

"Oh I think we can come to some sort of an arrangement."

"We should find space for this at home. Jacob's always nagging you to bring him here so he can play…" She smoothed her palm over the shiny wood and saw her own reflection. The woman staring back at her looked happy. "You should teach Rachel too."

Cuddy span round and watched as House closed the gap between them, his hands finding the edge of her jumper and pulling it over her head, before making equally short work of her bra which he also dropped to the floor. Leisurely he trailed his fingertips along her clavicle and then lower until his thumb swept delicately over her nipple, marvelling at how her body reacted to his touch.

"This is hardly fair," she objected.

"It's looking pretty good from where I'm standing." His attention still hadn't drifted from her chest.

"Are you going to take me bed, or just stand there gawping at me all night?"

Wordlessly answering her question, he dragged her into the bedroom, straight away taking his t-shirt off as she undid his belt and then pushed his jeans over his hips so they pooled at his feet, and he was forced to kick them away. Pushing him to sit down on the edge of the bed, Cuddy dropped to her knees and peeled his shorts down his legs, looking at him reassuringly and gesturing for him to lie back when his eyes silently asked if this was ok. Twisting her wrist as her palm snaked down his cock, she heard him groan appreciatively and then slid the tip of her tongue along the length of him, noticing his hand clutch the sheet tightly out of the corner of her eye. She was about to take him in her mouth when he practically growled at her.

"Get your ass up here!"

His words sent a shiver down the length of her body and intensified the dull ache between her legs.

"What's wrong with please?" she teased, dropping her jeans and then removing her panties torturously slowly for his benefit, as he watched with interest and swivelled around on the bed.

"You're mistaking me for someone who's nice?" Grabbing her waist as she swung her leg over him, House propelled her onto her back next to him and kissed her hungrily, moving so he was hovering over her. "I don't do nice." His head dropped so he could catch her nipple between his teeth, pulling gently until she keened underneath him. "Mind-blowing maybe, but not nice."

"Prove it," she challenged, wrapping her legs around his back and urging him to make love to her.

Gladly responding to her request House entered her, revelling in the feeling of being inside her once more, before instigating a steady rhythm that made her toes curl and her nails dig into his back each time his hips pushed forward. The sensation of sharing this kind of intimacy again was exquisite for both of them; stray thoughts questioning why they'd denied themselves this pleasure for the past few days, until they were drummed out by the more pressing need to concentrate on the matter in hand. Moans turned to colourful language and whimpers to full-blown screams, as the newly married couple raced towards the precipice, House taking her with him as his hips shot forward one last time, before he collapsed on top of her and whispered an exhausted "love you" into the nape of her neck.

Running her fingertips through his damp, tousled hair, Cuddy enjoyed the feeling of him on top of her. Maybe his dead weight should have made her feel claustrophobic or suffocated. Sometimes it used to, but now it didn't: she felt loved, wanted and above all _safe_.

"I love you too."

For several minutes they stayed entangled, their heart rates returning to normal, before House reluctantly rolled over and manoeuvred them both under the covers. Turning onto his side, he looked pleadingly at his wife.

"Please tell me we're not going to have to wait that long again… We're way too good at that not to do it at least once a day."

"I'll see what I can do," she replied with a smirk, reaching out and cupping his cheek tenderly.

"I was thinking…."

"Dangerous proposition right there."

He pulled a face at her and went on.

"Danny's struggling to find work in New York… I mean he's coping with the money Wilson left him, but nobody's that keen to take on someone who's spent the bulk of their adult life either homeless or in a mental institution, surprisingly…. I was thinking of asking him to come out here for a while. Maybe getting him to take care of this place for me, and helping him to look for something here… What do you think?"

His eyes looked into hers searchingly as she considered her answer.

"I think it's a great idea," she said honestly. She'd only met the guy a couple of times and spoken to him on the phone on the odd occasion, but she liked him and what's more she knew House did too. Not only did they have their shared love of his brother and similar experiences in common, but despite the younger man's comparative shyness, they both had the same biting sense of humour and similar outlooks in life. Now it seemed obvious why Wilson had stuck by House all those years; he reminded him of the brother he'd lost. "Especially now that he and Masters seem to be getting along."

"Oh please!" he groaned, shrivelling his nose up in disgust. "It's bad enough that I can't get the mental image of them sucking each other's faces off out of my head, without you going all doe-eyed over them like Rachel."

Cuddy laughed and shook her head in disbelief.

"I saw you smiling at them like a sappy old romantic when they were dancing."

"That was gas!"

"You can pretend you're not a nice guy deep down all you want, but I know different."

"Is that so Partypants?"

"Uh-huh," she nodded. "Wilson would've loved to have seen you guys get on so well."

House shrugged his shoulders and bit his lip.

"I owe him. For so much… I also seem to be genetically predisposed to only make friends with people whose last name is Wilson. Strange huh?"

"You're a strange guy."

"And yet you married me," he shot back jovially, tracing circles on her stomach with his index finger under the sheet. There was something incredibly soothing about having any sort of physical contact with her; touching Cuddy always felt like coming home.

"I'm fairly strange too. I gave up pretending to be normal years ago."

"I guess it's a good job I'm attracted to sexy lunatics then."

"Oh that is like the kettle calling the pot black," she chuckled, kissing him on the cheek.

For a few minutes they lay next to each other in a comfortable silence, the events of the day milling around their thoughts.

"About Rachel," House eventually ventured.

"You don't have to give me an answer about that yet." She frowned, worried that she'd forced him into making a decision either way prematurely.

"It's a no-brainer… I feed her, clothe her and put her to bed on a night, the same as I do with Jacob. In every way that matters I'm her Dad… Why shouldn't I be there for her _if _anything happened to you?"

"If you're sure I can ring my lawyer tomorrow and set the wheels in motion before we go away?"

House didn't answer for a second or two, appearing to be deep in thought.

"How would you feel about me looking into adopting her too?... I've got no idea if it's even going to be possible with my criminal record but…" He paused not really knowing what else to say.

"You'd seriously be prepared to do that?"

"Yeah, I would," he conceded. "On one condition."

"Which is?"

Again he wavered. What he was about to propose was a big deal.

"We tell the kids everything. About you adopting Rachel back in Princeton, about the crash, and then we include her in the decision about whether or not I should adopt her too."

Worriedly Cuddy's brow knitted together.

"But they're still so young."

"And they're also really smart. Isn't this better coming from us, rather than them hearing rumours from other people?"

She supposed he was right, but that didn't stop the niggling fear in the pit of her stomach that this could turn everything upside down.

"What if Rachel hates me after I've told her?"

House sighed at the question, and kissed her shoulder softly.

"Why would she hate you?... _You_ were the one who saved her after she was born. You've given her a great life, and you don't treat her any differently to Jacob. Just because you didn't give birth to her, doesn't make her any less yours." Supportively he smiled down at her. "Trust me, it's better that we tell her now instead of waiting until she's already started to figure it out, because she will… That kid doesn't stop asking questions until she finds the answers."

He was entirely right. The little girl was tenacious when it came to getting to the bottom of things.

"What about you?" Cuddy asked. "Aren't you scared what they'll think when they know what happened in Jersey?"

"I'm fucking petrified, but it's better than having this hanging over us… I'm just going to have explain to them what an idiot I was, that I paid for what I did, and that somehow you forgave me for the biggest mistake I ever made in my life… They do know we love each other and them, right?"

"Yeah," she smiled. There was no question that they did. Despite all those years where they were reticent to show their emotions to one another, now they openly showed their affection, both to each other and to the children. "They really do."

The pair just laid there staring at one another, unable to comprehend how that one night stand back in Michigan had somehow burgeoned into the most important adult relationship either of them had ever had. So many things _could_ have prevented them ending up here. So many things _did_ get in their way, and yet here they were, husband and wife with two kids to boot. Somehow it seemed surreal and at the same time perfectly natural.

"I think we're going to be ok."

"Better than ok," Cuddy responded with some assurance, pulling him into her embrace.

_Because they were._

_THE END._


End file.
